


Matters of the Heart

by petyrbaaaeeelish



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Angst, British North America, Drama & Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Forbidden Love, Gabriel Lorca - Freeform, Good Gabriel Lorca | Mirror Gabriel Lorca, Indigenous history, Indigenous people, Lorcham, Michael Burnham - Freeform, Peace, Pontiac's Rebellion, Racism, Romance, Seduction, Slavery, Slow Burn, Smut, The Seven Years War, True Love, USS Archangel Fic Exchange, USS Discovery (Star Trek), War Drama, canadian history, michael burnham x gabriel lorca, secrecy, soul mates, the dark history of Canada's past
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2019-10-20 12:09:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 33
Words: 130,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17622122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petyrbaaaeeelish/pseuds/petyrbaaaeeelish
Summary: General Lorca has taken upon himself to retire peacefully from his military career in Saint-Michel, Montreal. Tensions are still high between the English and French, but he is hoping to find some rest at last, now that he has accepted his lonely bachelor life. He hires a young woman, Michael Burnham, to be his slave and hopes her quiet presence will be all the companionship he will ever need. He was wrong.





	1. Introductions

My back was to her; the grandfather clock chimed far down the hall. The room was eerily dark, only a single wick candle flickering not far from my elbow. The fireplace in front of me was unlit, cold and empty as the room we currently stood in. I knew she was waiting ever so patiently to be introduced, knowing it was my responsibility to speak first. A tense breath escaped the corner of my lips, and then I forced myself to turn to her. “Apologies for the darkness,” I stated in a deep tone of voice. I slowly raised my fingers to the side of my temples. “It’s my eyes, you see, their sensitive to the light.”

I took a step forward, and partially leaned myself against the table that stood in between us. My papers were neatly stacked away on my desk, my military medal displayed for all to see. Reading spectacles rested over the novel I was currently reading.  _I would get it done a lot faster if I wasn’t for my eyes._

Michael stood in front of me, hands pressed firmly to her side with lips slightly open as if she wanted to speak. Under the candlelight I could catch her look of concern, those dark brown eyes were very telling. I wore a faint smile, though it must have looked like a smirk in the dim lighting of my room. “Michael Burnham,” I announced, and waited for her lips to close and offer me a slight smile. “You’ve worked in such establishments before?”

“Yes, sir,” she stated in a clear voice. There was a strength to her eyes, a demanding presence that I found most intriguing- just like the first time I saw her.

“You understand you will be the only one working here,” I informed her. “I’m not a demanding person. I believe only one _servant_ would be enough to satisfy my needs.”

“I understand, sir.”

I slowly went around the long maple table, letting the side of my knees brush across the smooth surface as I made my way to her. She was practically the same height as me, once we stood face to face. An odd thing, for I was considered to be a rather tall man among my rank. I felt the need to puff up my chest a little more, adding to the appeal of superiority. “You speak both English and French?” I asked, though I knew it was one of my qualifications which I sent out in the advertisements.

“Correct, sir.”

“Good,” I quipped. “If you couldn’t tell by my English accent, I speak very little French. I’ll need you by my side from time to time.” She blinked after that statement, a flash of concern written over her face again. “Can you read and write?”

“Mostly French, sir.”

“English?”

“It is… limited,” she confessed. “But I can speak it fluently.”

“And yet, you have a French accent,” I observed, before I crossed my arms at her.

“My last… master was English as well, sir.”

“I see.” She looked uncomfortable, as if a thought suddenly plagued her mind. “Well, I guess I should show you around. “

She followed me out of my office space, probably relieved that I had spoken for the first time since I had opened the front door. She looked almost terrified when she saw me in my night robe, but I felt there was no need to get dressed up for a mere servant girl. The hallway was dark once we entered it, and I looked to my left and then to my right in silent musing. “You cook?” I asked of her, once I took to the right to lead her down the hall.

“Yes, sir.”

“And what is your favourite meal to cook?”

“French onion soup, sir.”

I looked over my shoulder to try and catch any emotion betrayed on her face- there was none. I swung to my left again and entered the tiny kitchen, small enough for a bachelor like myself to enjoy. “I’m still getting used to French delicacy,” I told her. We passed the clean countertop, and I reached over for a candle and set it next to my chest in order to light it. “When I was very young, I was always fond of my mother’s beef stew.”

“Then I shall look for a recipe, sir.” I glanced over to her and was about to remonstrate her for calling me _‘sir’_ every two seconds, but the timid look that passed over her eyes made me rethink it.  

“Thank you, Burnham.”

She nodded her head slightly, and then looked down as I set a match to the tiny candle wick. It took a few seconds to burn, and then I blew it out with a sharp breath before I turned my gaze to her instead. “French onion soup will suit me fine,” I droned, and then led her over to the cabinet to showcase whatever food I had available for the time being. I instructed her to use less salt, and complained of my allergy to clam, but aside from that she had all the liberties in the world. A blank notebook was on the right side of the ice box, and I informed her to write down whatever she thought we would need for the following week. I took the liberty of showing her my wine collection, in which she observed the whole matter in grave silence. I then opened the ice box, proving I liked to eat seafood more than anything else, and after that was complete, I ushered her out of the kitchen. The bathroom was right across it, a quick open and close was all she needed to see. I suddenly realized I would have to buy some female toiletries, it had been a while since I had a woman in the house.

“You have any health concerns?” I inquired, suddenly remembering the last servant I had experienced a heart attack. _He served me faithfully to the end,_ I mused, and couldn’t help but pout at that thought.

The drawing room was given a quick scan by her, and I hoped the mess of the room wouldn’t deter her from the job completely. _Its not like she can leave,_ I deliberated, and felt some sick sense of guilt at that.

“I have a library,” I informed her, as I raised the candlelight a little bit higher over my chest. “Small, but you may take a look into it, in your off time.”

“Thank you, sir,” she breathed out with surprise.

“I believe everyone should have some kind of education,” I mused aloud. “Even people in your predicament.” The door was opened slightly, and I looked over my shoulder to make sure she was close behind. “Take a look,” I urged, and let her brush right across my shoulder to make her way through the crack of the door. The blinds were still open in this room, showcasing the quiet city street just outside my door. Lanterns were already lit to showcase the abundance of snow covering the ground, light fluffy snowflakes floated in the air, illuminating under the bright yellow lighting of the street. I was so focused on the sublime-like surroundings that I had forgotten her presence was somewhere close behind me. “You have no books in _Francais?_ ” she spoke in a thick French accent.

“No, I don’t.”

“Oh,” she quietly mouthed, and then took a step closer to my shoulder. “May I… borrow the candlelight for a moment.” She looked almost terrified as she added, “To see the books.”

“Yes, of course, Burnham,” I kindly answered her, and offered her the rounded candle holder to take. She stuck her finger through the bronze hole, securing it in place before she walked away from me. In the corner of my eyes I watched her bend over to inspect the books, seeing how alive she became by the mere sight of it. “You’re a reader?” I inquired, while my back was still to her.

“I enjoy reading,” she confessed quietly, as her fingers dragged over the spines of books in a successive row.

“Then you will improve your understanding of English immensely,” I assured her. “And when you’re ready…” I rotated my hips so the front of my chest could face her slightly. “… I’ll have you read to me.”

Her hands froze over a spine, and then she darted her head in my direction. “Me?”

“Yes,” I drawled out. “My eyes can only take so much, before I feel a strain.” I moved my right foot to face her and then let my left leg quickly follow. “It’s getting late. I’ll show you to your quarters, now.”

The woman rose to her feet, standing tall and proud unlike most of the black slaves I have encountered. There was something different about this woman, a rare intelligence could be slightly perceived, but she kept it well hidden- I was almost sure of it. With one hand raised towards the door, I encouraged her to go through the doorway first, and only closed it behind us once she was halfway through the drawing room. “I’ll wake you up at five,” I told her. “I take breakfast around six o’clock in the morning, which leaves me enough time to prepare for my day. “Even a retired army general has some work to do.”

It took us a while to get to the back of the house, and I noticed how timid she became once we walked up the stairs together side by side. She made every possible effort to walk behind me, but I wouldn’t stand for it; often slowing down my steps till she stood next to me again. Burnham realized my efforts, and with some reluctance took steps similar to myself, until she was at my side for the latter half of the stairway. We had reached the top, and I raised the candlelight higher to illuminate the hallway. “My bedroom is the first one,” I explained, and simply pointed to the door, since she had no real need to see inside of it. “The one next to it, is yours, Burnham.” I let my hand curl around the doorknob and thrust it open with a strong arm. “Have a look around,” I asked of her, and placed the candle holder in her hand once again. Her dark eyes scanned the clean room, unaware how many hours I had taken to make it reasonably comfortable. The bed was small and so was the desk, but I thought it would suit her well. “If you need anything, you will be sure to tell me?”

“Yes, sir.”

“In that case, I bid you goodnight.”

“Bonne nuit,” she quietly replied, and let those dark eyes fall over me in silent gratitude. I offered her the smallest of smiles before I closed the heavy door in between us. I had only taken a few steps away from the door when I heard the poor girl burst out in tears. I halted my steps, wondering if I should go inside and inquire about the matter. I shook my head in denial, and then ventured over to my own bedroom, shutting the door softly behind me. I could still hear her tears through the walls of my room and wondered if it was going to be a long night without any kind of rest. _Is it because of me,_ I wondered, as I untied the sash to my robe. _No, it couldn’t have possibly be me._

The night robe was tossed aside and laid out at the foot of my bed for safe keeping. Burnham’s heartfelt tears seeped its way through my walls, and I couldn’t help but sit at the side of my bed, stroking my short hair fervently as I considered the situation. Maybe I should have hired a man again…

Tollen had served me faithfully, but even he had pointed out in his dying days, I couldn’t avoid a woman’s presence forever. “She was one girl,” he relayed to me with a feeble smile. _She was one girl, but she broke my heart,_ I mused, and then laid myself flat on the bed with eyes fully shut. Burnham’s tears matched the depth of my sorrows, and somehow or other I managed to fall asleep.

* * *

Burnham was up and ready by the time I knocked on her door, she immediately swung it open with half swollen eyes. “Up already?” I asked of her, as I tried to pretend that I hadn’t noticed the dreary state of her eyelids that were all puffed up from tears.

“I’m an early riser, sir,” she answered me, as she continued to hide behind the door. Only the corner of her shoulder was revealed, enough to assure me she was still in her robe as well.

“Get dressed and meet me downstairs,” I instructed, and immediately left the spot to return to my quarters. I took to giving myself a quick wash and made sure I looked half presentable before I sauntered down the staircase. She was waiting for me in the kitchen, already having a pot on the stove with something brewing inside of it. “Burnham?”

“Do you take tea, sir?” She turned her back to me, clearly intent on ignoring my observation. Her hair looked beautiful this morning, showing that the scarf she had tied over her head last night had done her some good. Tight coils sprung from the top of her head, bountiful and thick in a way I had not seen before. The same black uniform-like dress was worn, but in the soft morning light I could see how it sculpted around her small curves. She had a lean, athletic build; the height added something to her stature, making her almost regal like. Smooth, dark hands wrapped itself around the large wooden spoon as she stirred around something in the pot that smelt like cinnamon. Her head slowly turned towards me with an arched eyebrow, and it was only then that I realized she had asked me a question.

“Yes, like every other Englishman I take tea, Burnham.”

She smiled softly and went over to the brass kettle to fill it with some water. I found myself watching her, leaning over the doorway with my arms tightly crossed over my chest. She knew what I was doing but said nothing. Her dark brown eyes ever so attentive to the kettle that took quite a long time to boil. “Are you unhappy here?” I found myself asking aloud.

“No, sir.”

“I heard you crying…” Her eyes flickered downwards in shame, and she made sure to turn her head away completely. “… I was only wondering.”

“I was only happy, sir.”

“Tears of joy.”

“Very much, sir.”

“Then…” I uncrossed my arms and slowly made my way towards her. “… I’m glad.”

“You are very kind,” she hushed in barely a whisper.

“Am I?” I nearly bellowed, a quaint contrast to her own quiet voice. “I hadn’t thought of myself that way.”

“Well, you are,” she quickly answered, and then moved away from me to retrieve a cup from one of my cupboards.

“You can take out two,” I told her. “You’ll be joining me for breakfast.” Her hands stilted and froze entirely in mid-air, and then she looked at me like it was completely out of the question. “You never joined your master’s meal, Burnham?”

“No,” she said almost in horror.

“Then, I can see why you think I’m kind.” I puckered my lips slightly, as I narrowed my eyes a bit. “I understand your master had quite a large family. Well, I’m the complete opposite, you see.” I waved my large hand around the room in quiet demonstration. “All of this belongs to an old, lonely bachelor. This, Burnham, is the reason you will be joining me for breakfast. Whatever it is-”

“-oatmeal,” she cut in suddenly. “Will be having oatmeal… no salt.”

“Good,” I quipped, and the felt there was something off between the both of us. She was staring at me too hard, and I felt rather uncomfortable under her curious stare. “Well, I’ll just be in the dining room. Bring the tea to me when its ready.” I turned sharply to my right and stormed out the kitchen as fast as I could. There was something unsettling about her stare, enough to make the palms of my hands sweat. And I didn’t like it one bit. 


	2. A Shared Interest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the day slowly passes by, Burnham gradually begins to open up to the master of the house, and Gabriel begins to realize they have more in common than he originally thought.

I had the drapes closed tightly, making the dining room uncommonly dark when Burnham finally walked in through the door. I felt she was watching me under the candlelight, scrutinizing the way I had my dark spectacles peered over the bridge of my nose as I attempted to read the newspaper. Wordlessly, she set the tray down on the small rectangular table and arranged the small porcelain teacup and saucer right next to my fallen wrist. I made sure not to look up at her then, or even spare her a word for the time being. The image of her eyes- the last time we looked at one another was still playing a strange little thought in my brain. I couldn’t make it out, a mystery to behold, as I wondered what exactly her thoughts were at that moment.

Burnham set down the small container of milk and then the tiny bowl of sugar, where she directed the edge of the spoon towards me. She left the room soundlessly, as quiet as a mouse and it was only then that I looked up to see her retreating back.

In the past I had taken my meals with Tollen; it hadn’t always been that way, of course, but I found an amiable companion better than the cheerless solitude of my empty dining room. I thought it would be the most natural thing in the world for Burnham to take his place, but perhaps I was wrong. A male companion is so much different than a female one, I quickly began to realize, and wondered for the second time in the past twenty-four hours whether this was a mistake.

The girl returned into the room, setting down a large rounded bowl right in front of my newspaper. “Your breakfast, sir,” she quietly stated, and then swiftly turned around to retreat out of the doorway again. I lowered the morning paper, finding the article on the third-year anniversary of the Treaty of Paris somewhat biased and destructive to our peaceful purposes; the last thing we needed was another uprising by the French people- they were always so passionate about these things.

Burnham returned for the last and final time, setting down another tray to the opposite end of the table, ensuring she was far away from me as possible. We looked rather at odds with one another, her in her pristine-like uniform while I wore my comfortable night robe with my hair dishevelled and probably sticking up on its ends. I patted my dark blond hair down with the palm of my hands, smoothing out the fine hairs till I imagined they were back in place. She watched me cunningly, letting her eyes flicker upwards every now and then as she took to sipping her tea. “How is my hair?” I asked without thinking, which only made a small smile travel across her face in queer amusement.

“It is fine, sir.”

“Oh.” I nervously reached forward and took up my cup of tea as well, finding a need to keep myself busy. The sound of us sipping our tea filled the air, showing how just distant we were, as the truth of us being merely strangers became tragically apparent. “I’ll be out all day, Burnham, so you will have time to familiarize yourself with this place. Again, if you see anything I need, just jot it down on that notebook I left for you in the kitchen. I haven’t had a servant in over a month…” _A month and seventeen days to be exact._ “… so there will be some things out of order.”

Burnham took to filling her mouth with the overly large spoon, and an unconscious thought suddenly seized me. I looked down at my paper, and idly folded it up neatly to distract my wandering thoughts. _And this is why I should have not hired a woman._ The paper crumbled underneath my hands, an annoyance since it made such a ruckus. “You are not throwing that out, sir?” she asked softly, a sign that she was still afraid to speak up. _You would think she’s a damn kitchen mouse._

“You would like to read it?”

“I would,” she confidently stated, and for once I sensed an overwhelming strength to her voice.

I left the paper on the side of the table, half crumpled, and half folded to my dismay. “Then its yours, Burnham,” I said in a rather gruff voice, before I took to retrieving my own spoon. The porridge was rather bland, I would have much preferred a traditional English breakfast; sausages, eggs, toast and if good fortune was on my side, something akin to roasted potatoes. _I love potatoes_ , I thought, _and felt it must have been the small Irish part in me._

 _With such a small serving, I might have to go to that French café sooner than I expected._ I glanced upwards to see Burnham was digesting her food quite fine, proving to me she was hungrier than I had originally anticipated. _A part of me wondered if I should bring her back a treat, the chocolate croissants were to die for there, but would she like it?_

 _I care to much for her opinions,_ I thought _, or her well-being._

Still, she was human, just like everyone else. I imagined her reservations was due to an unspeakable harsh past- her timidness a result of frequent scolding. I did not believe it was her nature to be shy, nor so prone to quietness. _She was trained to be that way,_ I mused _, like a dog’s bad behaviour being scolded and beaten out by its owner._ _But how do you undo such rigid training? The prior principles that were instilled on her, so she could overstep the boundaries to her prior beliefs?_

I intended to find that out.

I suddenly found my voice and bellowed out, “Are you fond of French pastries, Burnham?”

She blinked over her meal and raised her dark brown eyes in my direction. Her face was impassive, nearly unreadable in the dim candlelight. “Yes, I believe so, sir.”

“What is your favourite?”

She lowered the spoon down to her plate, and looked somewhat guilty as she muttered, “I was always fond of chocolate pistachio.”

“Ah, I’ve never tried it.”

“It is quite good,” she stated in a flat tone of voice. She was hardly one to sell it to me, a thing that made the corner of my mouth curl upwards.

“Then I will look for it when I go for my morning coffee,” I kindly relayed, and then took to stirring around the clumpy oatmeal as if it would suddenly turn into another meal.

“Thank you… _sir._ ” There was a strain to her voice, and she was perhaps taken aback by my sudden kindness again.

I could almost hear her unspoken thoughts: “Why would my master go out of his way to please me?” I caught a glance from her from over my bowl and got a sense that her thoughts were slowly taking a darker turn. Her fingers curled inwards, and then her hand fell over her lap with a nervous worry.

“You are not married,” she stated the obvious.

“No.”

Her body tensed a little more, her shoulders rounding and leaning back hard against the table. She probably thinks she will soon become my mistress. I almost laughed at that thought, Burnham was too young for one thing and she wasn’t exactly my type. She was beautiful to be sure, but I had always enjoyed a woman’s presence when she was in charge or in control. _Confident woman is my weakness,_ I deliberated, _they always have been._

“Do you intend to get married…” Burnham noticed the darkness in my aqua blue eyes as she added, “… sir.”

“No,” I quickly spat out, and found myself pushing my half-eaten porridge aside. “Do you, Burnham?”

“No,” she said with equal distaste. “I don’t believe so, but then again…”

The room fell into a fearful suspense, the poor woman could hardly string two sentences together. “Yes?”

“I never met anyone who I would be willing to marry.” Her voice fell into an even lower tenor as she uttered: “At least not yet.”

I took a good look at her, deliberating she was in her mid twenties. _She could be even older,_ I mused, _but it was perhaps that austere sense of maturity that gave her an older air._

Burnham had left her seat, and slowly walked her way towards me. She purposefully avoided my wondering gaze upon her form and lifted the brass teapot with slightly trembling hands. _Do I make her nervous,_ I wondered, and quickly settled my gaze someplace else. “More tea?” she politely asked, and once she got sight of my curt nod of the head did, she lean forward to pour it. I stared at her waist, taking in how impeccably small Burnham was. She was half my size to be sure, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. My thoughts were interrupted, once I saw her form slowly retreating away from me, a thing that made me blink profusely. Burnham poured herself a cup, feeling uncomfortable at the mere action of it.

“Have as much as you like,” I spoke into the awkward silence. “Never feel embarrassed by it.”

The tea pot was settled down in its rightful spot, and slowly she returned to her seat again. I found my eyes lingering over her form again, taking in the shortness of her hair, a cut that was worn more often by a man than a woman. _It suited her well,_ I thought, and could not place ill conceived judgement that the rest of society held for such a style. I was about to broach the subject aloud, but soon feared it would make her uncomfortable. _No, I’ll let her be,_ I thought, and lifted my fresh cup of tea to silently enjoy.

A few peaceful minutes passed between us, when Burnham suddenly left her seat to open the blinds partially. “It is day, sir,” she noted quietly, and I felt there was no need to remonstrate her. The light wasn’t too blinding today, for fortunately there was a grey overcast overhead.

“A fine day for a walk,” I mused aloud.

“Indeed.” Her attention was fixated outside, probably observing the passer-byers that were on their way to work.

“I will show you where to pick up my mail later on,” I voiced aloud. “And some quiet spots where you can walk about, areas that are…” I puckered my lips, unsure how to phrase the correct wording. “Appropriate for your kind of people.”

_I failed miserably._

Burnham looked unphased by my words, but perhaps it was because her back was to me.

“Places that are safe,” I added, hoping it would smooth out my error. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

“No, more northern to Quebec,” she promptly answered. She half turned her body in my direction, while her hands were clasped in front of her. “It was a very long carriage ride.”

“I imagine. You looked quite cold when you came to my door.”

If her skin wasn't such a dark shade, I would have seen her blush. The man that escorted her was blatantly rude, nearly tossing her across my threshold before he stormed out. Burnham was severely underdressed, shivering, and that is when I brought her one of my blankets from off my couch and let her warm up a bit in silence before I escorted her to my office space. _Only then did I speak to her for the first time._

“I was very cold, sir,” she said in a dreary sort of voice. “This cold weather does not suit me.”

 _No, and why would it?_ The girl’s skin was like ebony, her eyes like black coals from the kind of fires you see on hot summer nights. She did not look like she belonged in my world, but here she was in her finely pressed uniform in a dark midnight shade, patiently waiting for further instructions from the master of the house.

“Are you finished your meal, Burnham?” I sharply asked. She nodded her head in agreement, and that is when I rose out of my seat. “In future… I would prefer to not have oatmeal, though I thank you for your efforts.” She frowned slightly but tried to mask it the best she could. “I am very blunt, you will find. Uncommonly direct; as accustomed to a man in my station. Tomorrow, I shall have eggs, sausages and toast. If groceries are required for such a meal than please tell me before I leave the house this morning. Furthermore, I shall have roast chicken for dinner… carrots, onions and brussel sprouts. I will bring home something for dessert, and _you_ shall take it with me.” The tips of my fingers banged against the table softly as I added, “Now! Do you have any questions?”

“No, sir.”

“Are you capable of cooking such a meal?”

“Yes,” she said with utter confidence.

“Well, Burnham, I suggest you inspect the kitchen to see if I need anything.” The woman took up our things quickly and left the room as fast as she could, never sparing a glance in my direction- not even for a single moment.

It felt good to be harsh to her, Burnham seemed to respond better when I was sharp and abrupt. It was in my nature to do so, years of being in the military had made me this way. It was my basic instinct to rap out orders, to appear cold and unfeeling, but I knew deep down inside I was far from that.

I grunted loudly into the empty room, and then took to stroking my unshaved beard as I strolled away from my table to peer out the crack of the curtain. _I had lied to her,_ I reflected, after some time of silent solitude. _A retired general is not busy, he is in fact the opposite._

* * *

My morning consisted of wandering through a local _Librarie_ , a favourite of mine that I frequented at least three times a week. In the past I would purchase books about war, but I found a new love in the science and astronomy section as of late.

I was a religious man, growing up on holy scriptures that practically were pounded against my head by my mother. She was a Protestant, while my father belonged to Lutheranism, a disparity that often came up in family discussions in my humble home. My sister, Gabriella, had followed my father’s proud footsteps and even married a man of the same belief. I adopted a simpler lifestyle, attending a Protestant church regularly, where my pastor often complained of the clashes between our neighbours, who just so happened to be French Catholics. It seemed the newly appointed British Government had no interest of building a peaceful transition between our world and theirs, and instead cried out for forceful assimilation to deaf ears. We cannot take over their country, and simply demand that they obey our God, civil laws, and pledge open obedience to his Majesty. _But we did,_ I mused, and found the French man that was currently standing beside me wrapped in a layer of animal furs eyed me wearily from the other end of the aisle. _Can an Englishman and a Frenchman ever get along,_ I wondered, and sensed it was not a possibility for anytime soon.

Ignoring the man, I bent down on one knee, and plucked out a silvery green spine with the title _On the Revolution of the Heavenly Orb_ by Nicholas Copernicus. I placed it under my arm, securing it well before I reached for the book next to it, which quickly captured my eye. Harris’s _Astronomical Dialouges Between a Gentleman and a Lady_ immediately grabbed my attention, and I flipped it open to read the first line on a random page: “O! pray! Move on, Sir, said she, this is amazingly fine: I fancy myself travelling along with that little Earth in its course round the gilded Sun.” A small laugh escaped my lips, finding the text absolutely belittling to the real wonders of space. A part of me wondered if Burnham would like it at all, and half convinced by winning a small part of her favour I managed to bring it to the front desk and offer some exact coinage for both books.

I spent the rest of the morning in my favourite café, rifting over the pages of Copernicus with a stout shot of espresso to keep my mind alert and highly attentive to the highly articulate text. I never had a proper education, not one that could help me properly decipher the true meanings of this sacred scientific scripture. The illustrations were amusing, however, and I spent the rest of my time idly scrolling over it until the gust of wind from the frequently opened door behind my back became too much to bear. Bundling up myself tightly, with the heavy brown fur collar to keep out the cold, I made a small order in my an almost failed attempt at French until I was able to procure a reasonable sized apple pie and a box full of pastries for our breakfast tomorrow. There was a strange excitement as I frequently repeated _deux_ , finding the words strange as it escaped my lips. It felt good to have a companion again, and that thought alone was enough for me to return to my humble apartment early.

It was just after noon when I creaked open the door, banging my boots against the ground to get out the last of the clumps of snow. It was chilly in the house, a fact that made me shiver as I unbundled my coat. “Burnham!” I called out,and found the silence of the house disconcerting. My coat was half way off when she suddenly appeared, briskly walking down the hallway with smoothly elegant steps.

“Sir?” she exclaimed out with surprise. “You are back so soon?”

I motioned her forward with my leather glove, and only once she was standing before me, did I heap the brown paper bags into her arms. “Put it in the kitchen, will you?”

I walked past her, pulling off my hat to reveal the dampness of my hair from a day’s long trapped heat. Stroking it upwards in a messy fashion, I strode down the hallway with every intention of getting changed.

I found her in the drawing room later, sweeping at my rug with a stilled expression. She seemed unbothered by her tasks, like a rare autonomous object without a radiance of feeling she scrubbed hard at the floor. “Have you eaten?”

“I haven’t, sir.”

“You don’t have to call me that every five seconds,” I barked out with my hands over my hips. “And why not?”

“I was working,” she answered me, while her gaze continued to fixate on the rugged grey old carpet on my floor.

“And when did you intend to eat?”

“When I’m ready.”

“Then, Burnham,” I taunted. “You’re ready now.” Her broom was snatched out of her hands and placed down on the wall behind me. I laid a hand over the top of her back and steered her forward, directing her to the kitchen. “What do we have to eat?” I rapped out, and briskly moved her to the side of me so I could open the icebox.

 _Does she really have to tremble over a simple touch,_ I mused, as I stuck my head into the icebox. My irritation was increased when I found nothing pleasant to eat in my line of sight.

“I carved out some ham,” the woman uttered behind me. “I intended to have a sandwich, but there is enough for two.”

“Perfect.” I shut the ice box closed and turned the whole of my body to face her. Burnham instantly took a step back, realizing how close we really were to one another, and let her hands reach behind her until she found the countertop just at her back. “Do you need any help?”

“Oh, no,” she blurted out. “You must be busy! It won’t take that long, sir.”

“I know that,” I slyly replied. “It is a sandwich after all.” The woman had no time to reply, I thrust open the pastry box and unearthed two freshly made croissants. “We should have some cheese still.”

“Yes, very little,” she said with dismay. “But just enough.”

“I’ll order some more,” I promised her. She positioned herself next to my side, bringing two plates to the edge of the countertop that was just in front of my waist. Her long, elegant hands placed the strips of ham onto the croissants that I had just cut; spreading an unfamiliar fragrance in my way. I licked my lips unconsciously, finding the strange melody of floral with a tangy citrusy scent oddly appealing to my senses. I blinked unconsciously and made sure to take a step back as she reached forward to lay the cheese over the finely folded blackforest ham. Her arm was just in front of my chest, elbow pointed towards me like an unseen barrier; I was tempted to catch her hand as she moved her arm back to her towering form, and found my nails digging into the palm of my hand as I suddenly fisted them together.

“Tea again, sir?”

“Yes, that will do.”

“It will take a few minutes,” she informed me, before she moved just behind my back to retrieve the brass kettle. “Was it very cold outside?”

“Very,” I answered her, surprised she was the first to bring up some form of conversation.

“And did you get much work done?”

“A great deal, yes,” I lied. “But I grew tired and decided to come home early.”

 _Another lie,_ I reflected, _but then again, I was never an honest man_. I was watching her again, but this time it was consciously done. The lighting was dim in the kitchen, just like the rest of the house, but I couldn’t help but feel captivated by her slender form. She let her fingers glide over the front of the oven, watching the kettle vainly attempt to boil as she avoided my earnest gaze. “Are you going out again?” she suddenly asked, though there was a tremble to her voice.

“I think there is a storm coming, so likely not.”

“Then maybe I will start dinner early.”

“I’ll be happy either way.” She nodded her head lightly, still intently staring at the kettle that sat motionless on my stove. “It won’t boil anytime soon, Burnham.”

A trace of a smile came across her face, and it was only then that she finally looked at me. I thought she looked beautiful when she smiled, small though it was. “No, sir,” she nearly laughed, and then turned her gaze back to the kettle again.

I walked forward, pretending I wanted to be near our full plate of food. She noticed the closeness of my presence, and instantly moved back to stand more in the shadows. “I’ll… just bring this into the room,” I said with sudden nervousness, and then picked up the two plates to bring it out of the kitchen. And once again, I could feel my palms started to sweat.

* * *

The candlelight accented the bridge of her nose and cheeks; the rest of her face was casted in a lovely shadow. Burnham was kind enough to draw the drapes for me, and once she was fully seated, I couldn’t help but keep my eyes off her. She bit into her sandwich in silence, hands tightly clutching her meal as she slowly realized she was being watched yet again.

I bit into my sandwich greedily, churning it over on one side of my cheek once I finally turned my gaze to the crack of light coming from the window. “I noticed,” Burnham began into a stronger voice. “You have a telescope in your study room.”

“Yes.”

“Is it for display or do you…”

“I use it, Burnham.”

She nodded her head slightly, and then took to continuing her meal.

“I use it in the summertime. There is a small staircase in the attic that leads to the roof, and that’s where I can look up at the stars. Do you have an interest in astronomy?”

“I find it fascinating,” she told me with a lightness to her face.

“Then you will like the books I purchased today,” I assured her, and enjoyed the way her eyebrows raised almost to her hairline. “Copernicus,” I merely stated, before I bit down on my sandwich again.

Her face was implicitly straight, unreadable in the faint candlelight.

“Do you know of his works?”

“I know the universe doesn’t revolve around the earth,” she said with sudden sarcasm.

“Oh?” I teased.

“Copernicus was a Renaissance-era mathematician and astronomer who formulated a model of the universe that placed the _Sun_ rather than the Earth at the center of the universe.” She reached forward for her cup of tea and did her best to hide her smug behind it.

“Well…”

“I enjoy reading,” she told me, to fill up the awkward silence.

“You’ve read his work?”

“No, there was some Scientific Encyclopedia Captain… I mean my former master used to own.” Her confession made her suddenly uncomfortable, and she fidgeted nervously with the handle of her cup.

“So, you enjoy the sciences?” I inquired, trying to get her back into her normal state of mind.

“Very much so,” she said with sudden perkiness. “And arithmetic.”

I nodded my head at her, surprised to see such a supreme level of intelligence from so young a woman. “But do you ever read for _pleasure?_ ”

Her eyes softened, and then she blinked as if my words had suddenly hit her. “I do take pleasure in them, sir.”

“I meant…” I scratched my chin idly, as I tried to come up with a better explanation. “Such as fictional stories, something to take you out of the moment and give you a sense of adventure. John Milton’s _Paradise Lost_? Shakespeare’s sonnets and plays?”

“I’ve never had access to such works,” she plainly replied, though her voice was riddled with a tinge of regret.

“Well, luckily for you I have them.” A reluctant smile came across my lips as I added, “And you’re about to learn them now.”

An hour passed by quickly, and Burnham and I were seated on my long couch in the drawing room with books in either hand. The candlelight was placed in between us, sending a warm ambient lighting upon our two dark forms. Another cup of tea was placed in my hand, sipping lightly on the robust flavoured tea as I tried a hand at Copernicus’ writing again. Burnham was thoroughly engrossed by my borrowed book, clinging to the outer edges of it with a sheepish smile on her face. It was a light, romantic comedy; a thing I thought she desperately needed to counteract that logical brain of hers. She had insisted on performing her duties, but in truth I couldn’t bear her from leaving my presence- not at time like this. In truth, my eyes wandered over to her profile more than my own text, and I suddenly tossed it aside to focus the whole of my attention on her. “Should you read it aloud for me?”

“Oh, no!” she fretted. “I couldn’t possibly do it.” She shut the book instantly, though her thumb carefully held the page to where she was last reading it.

“And why not?”

“I wouldn’t know how.” It was a feeble excuse and she knew it, already her cheeks were starting to burn as she laid her gentle fingers upon them. “Please don’t ask me to do it.”

I held out a tired hand in front of her and flicked my fingers upwards to silently request the hardcovered book of _A Midsummer’s Night Dream_. “You mustn’t behave like a child,” I scolded. My words were harsh, but my mood had suddenly become sour. The heavy book was placed upon my lap, and I readjusted my glasses in the hopes to see the smaller text clearer. I cleared my throat, trying out to bring out my best deep baritone voice as I began: “Why should you think that I should woo in scorn? Scorn and derision never come in tears. Look when I vow, I weep, and vows so born. In their nativity all truth appears.” The page was turned, and I glanced in her direction; in the corner of my eye I could tell that Burnham was well pleased. Confidence gained, I continued: “How can these things in me seem scorn to you…”

Burnham had moved closer to my side suddenly, the couch dipping from the newly acquired weight. Her scent flooded my senses again, her soft breath echoing in the air beside me. “… bearing the badge of faith to prove them _true?_ ”

“You read it well,” she commented lightly. Her gaze was fixated on my mouth now. “I think its your voice.”

“It could be.”

“Could you continue? I haven’t much time until its time to start dinner.”

“Our dinner can wait an hour more,” I suggested, and then patted the space in between us to urge her to come closer. She refused me, with a single look. “It was not a question, Burnham,” I said rather sharply, and nearly smiled when I saw how shocked she looked. “I am already straining my eyes, should you have me strain my voice as well?”

“No, sir.”

“Then come closer.”

She moved to my side reluctantly, though she curled her hands down to her lap with extreme trepidation. _Like a frightened little bird,_ I mused, and readjusted my glasses for a second time before I continued to read out the play.

I allowed twenty minutes to pass before I forced her to read out the female parts, complaining of a dry throat to get her to obey. She did as I asked of her, taking the heavy book from my hand to read sweetly beside me. Her accent was amusing to my ears, the softness of her tone and quaint pronunciation managed to lighten my face. “Am I doing it right?” she asked me worriedly.

“You’re doing it perfectly,” I assured her, before I took up the book to read the musically inclined part of poor old Puck. “Up and down, up and down, I will lead them up and down: I am fear’d in field and town…” I paused to hear Burnham giggle, and looked up at her to catch the joyful sound with my own eyes. “You laugh, Burnham?”

“It was very funny,” she confessed with a thin, wiry sort of smile. “The way you said it.”

“Goblin, lead them up and down.” I couldn’t help but smile at her as I finished: “Here comes one.”

 


	3. An Uncomfortable Feeling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Late night dinner doesn't go exactly how General Lorca has planned, and the end results leave him with an uncomfortable feeling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to remind everyone of the historical context that this story is set in, so you may better understand the context and Gabriel and Michael's interaction with one another.  
> \- The year is 1763, so it is three years after the Seven Year War.  
> \- One of the results of the Seven Year War between France and England was the Treaty of Paris. In the treaty, New France (Basically eastern and central parts of Canada) are surrendered to England and his Majesty King George III.  
> \- Thus, Quebec, came under British control and the subjects have no choice but to obey British criminal and civil law (Replacing French law which is marginally different).  
> \- These seemingly assimilative policies would quickly clash with the realities of a French Catholic society, an issue that General Lorca is currently observing as he resides in Montreal.  
> \- Michael Burnham is bound by the Code Noir, a legal framework for slavery exercised in France and its colonies. The contents of this legally bound framework will come up in future chapters, but I hope it helps you better understand Michael's reserved and immensely shy behaviour whenever she is in her master's presence. 
> 
> Now that this is out of the way, I hope you enjoy the chapter :)
> 
> petyrbaaaeeelish

The water was icy cold in my small basin, trickling down my hands before I scooped a handful over the first eye. It was aching from the strain I had put upon it, the two hours of reading by Burnham’s side had finally taken its toll. I grunted low as I scooped another handful of water into the palm of my hands, bringing it forward and placing it over my left eye. My doctor warned me not to rub my eyes when it hurt, saying it would only make the situation worse. The light sensitivity was a result of a corneal abrasion, or as he lightly called it “You got a scratched eye, son.”

His simplified terminology was light and friendly, but the damage that has been done to both of my eyes was gravelly serious. I was forced to wander about my house like a _vampir_ , a night creature that shudder at the prospect of bright sunlight. _Summers are always the worse,_ I mused, and was thankful we were in the dead of winter.

I took a step back to glare at myself in the mirror; shirtless with only my small clothes clinging to the deep pelvic muscles piercing out of the tops of my waist band. I was fortunate enough to still retain my military-like body. _I have to stay fit,_ I told myself, and wondered what particular activity I could do to keep me in shape. The war ended three years ago, and with it my military career, for soldiers are only needed in time of war- not peace.

I squinted my eyes, blinking it profusely until the tension seemed to mitigate slightly. I walked away from the looking glass in my bathroom, and slowly trailed my way into my bedroom where my evening clothes were laid out on the very edges of my bed. I walked past them, taking a small peak outside my window through a tiny crack from my drapes; dusk had settled upon the cold city, casting a fiery red light over the tops of the houses. I was correct about the storm, however, it continued to rage just outside my window. _I’ll get snowed in,_ I feared, and made a mental note that I should shovel first thing tomorrow to prevent that from ever happening.

My bed dipped when I sat at the side of it and leaning backwards, I stretched to reclaim my pocket watch to look at the time; it was just after seven o’clock, no wonder I was feeling hungry. Two legs slipped into my breeches at the same time, and I had to lift my bum off the bed to put my pants on fully. I felt tired, my very limbs seemed to ache with slow movement. _I’m getting old,_ I worried, and then bent down to retrieve a clean white linen shirt to brighten up my look. _I wear black too much._

A golden gilded waistcoat was placed over my shoulders, the front of it was decorated in a peculiar leaf-like pattern that spanned over my entire chest and waist area. The sleeves a smooth material, devoid of the pattern to only show a creamy golden colour that was soft to the touch. At the hem of the sleeves, the leaf pattern started up again, trailing to the very ends where my wrists were. I patted the front of my waist coat, making sure it was on securely enough before I reached over for my last item. A heavy coat consisting of a dark brown complexion was thrown on, the shiny white buttons glimmered in the candlelight as I placed each of them through their appropriate hole. It had been a long time since I had gotten dressed for dinner, frequently eating alone in my bedroom for the past month after Tellon’s death. For the first time in a while, I would be able to consume a decent meal- Burnham’s company was just the icing on the cake.

 _I think I look well,_ I mused, after I studied myself in the looking glass in the mirror. My face looked so brooding and serious as I examined myself, taking in the deep lines stretched across my pallor complexion, particularly over my brow once I lowered my eyebrows slightly. _I’m not getting dressed up for her, am I?_

I puckered my lips slightly with distaste, hating myself for even considering that thought. _A mere servant girl- never._

Nonetheless, I found myself trotting out the room and slamming the door behind me with sudden ill-humour. _How could I possibly entertain such an idea?_ The stairs lightly creaked underneath my feet, letting Burnham know far in advance that I was heading downstairs. I heard some noises coming from the kitchen, and it was not long before I outstretched my hands on either side of the doorway as I scanned the entire length of the kitchen. She was currently opening the oven, her brow drenched from sweat from the unspeakable heat. The roast chicken was almost ready, it was obvious by the delectable scent. “Burnham,” I bellowed out, the moment the oven door was closed. “How long?”

“Five or ten minutes, sir.”

“Excellent.”

She wiped her hands on the side of the uniform; her gaze casted in my direction with idle curiosity. The corner of her lips smiled suddenly, and then she dipped her head low as she confessed, “You are dressed very finely, sir.”

“Its dinner time, Burnham.”

“Do you really wish me to join you?” she asked me in a frightened voice. “I feel ill-suited to you in every way.” She flapped the edges of her uniform to show her tragic condition, it was spoilt with splatters, proving her time in the kitchen had made its mark.

“Have you nothing else to wear?”

“Nothing so fine as yours,” she cleverly replied, clearly trying to find a way out of her forced invitation.

“Anything will do,” I told her, and immediately left the doorway before she could have another word. Soon enough, I was pacing back and forth in the drawing room, buying time as the grandfather clock was ticking minute by minute. Time was passing slowly, and I was growing irritable as time went on. Deciding to make myself useful, I went into the drawing room to see if the table was at least set; everything was set in pairs, though Burnham’s seat was positioned as far away from me as possible. _So be it,_ I mused, and then began to pace around the dining room as well with my hands gliding up and down my hair fervently.

The room was cold, so I set some logs into the fireplace, and then decided to call Burnham to finish the rest of the task. _I can’t possibly get my clothes dirty,_ I mused, knowing this was not the appropriate task for the _master_ of the house.

“Burnham! The fire,” I called out, once my head peaked around the corner of the doorway. She nearly dropped the tray of vegetables since I snuck up behind her; she managed to drop it not so lightly over the countertop and huffed at me with annoyance. _Ah, so she does have feelings after all?_

“You scared me, sir,” she blurted out, once she finally turned around fully to face me. Her arms were crossed, those adorable oven mitts placed on both of her graceful hands.

“It was not intentional,” I assured her. “The dining room is cold. I should like a fire going.”

“I will do it as soon as I can, _sir._ ” Her voice was dripping with annoyance, Burnham was feeling overwhelmed and it was becoming noticeable for both her and I.

“Is dinner ready?”

“It is,” she commented in a stilted voice, and then lifted the tray to prove her point. “If you will excuse me,” she stated in a low tone of voice, once the tray was positioned right in front of my chest. I was blocking the doorway again, an occurrence I seemed to be making a lot this evening. I moved to the side, and watched her past by me, that lingering scent intoxicating the air around me from her unknown perfume. _Or is it something else?_ I watched the back of her unconsciously, taking in her shapely form. It wasn’t until she rounded the corner that I had realized what I had done and hated myself for it.

The kitchen was clean once I went inside of it; Burnham had a knack for keeping her station clear and impeccably organized while cooking. _Good,_ I thought, and then unboxed my pastry container to see the apple pie was still untouched and in its proper place. My mouth watered by the prospect, and I could not help but smile when I saw the tiny pastries of chocolate pistachio, I had picked out for her. Burnham entered the room, I shot her a sly look as she passed the doorway and instantly she went behind my back.

“The chicken is ready, sir,” she offered to me in a low sort of voice. I felt the wave of heat reach the side of me the second she opened the oven, and I positioned the whole of my body to face it. _Or was it her?_

Burnham successfully took out the cooked chicken, placing it on the corner of the countertop before she shut off the oven for good. I watched her prepare the last of our dinner, and only when she turned her gaze in my direction did, I realize I had been staring. “I was just checking if its cooked,” I lied.

“Its cooked.”

I nodded my head curtly, and then walked closely behind her to retrieve something that was most beloved to me. “You drink wine?” I asked, with my back to her.

“No.”

“Never?”

“Never, sir.”

I held the newly acquired bottle in the grasp of my hand, before I turned around to face her. “And why not?”

“I just don’t.” She was lifting the tray full of chicken as she added, “And I’ve seen the bad things wine can do to people.”

“You can say that about anything,” I rebutted. “Moderation is key in these cases.”

“Perhaps,” she rapped out, before she rounded herself around the doorway and exited the room. I was quick to follow her, lengthening my strides until I was close to her back.

“Even _Jesus_ drank wine, Burnham,” I argued back, knowing she was deeply religious.

“But I am not Jesus, sir.”

I stopped in my tracks, caught off guard by the girl’s quick response. _She has a tongue as sharp as a double-edge sword._ I swallowed hard at that thought, keenly aware how hard I was staring at her back as she walked down the length of the hallway.

By the time I entered the drawing room, the table was completely set. The room smelt delicious, and I found my mouth watering at the prospect once again. Burnham was currently hunched over the fireplace, trying to strike a match to ignite a fire. She must have heard me approaching her, for she muttered, “I will have a fire prepared in future, sir.”

“Good.” She kept trying to light up the match, but for some reason it wasn’t working for her. _Her hands are shaking,_ I realized, and then positioned myself next to her with my hand dangling in front of her face. “Give it to me.”

“I can do it.”

“To me, _Burnham,_ ” I drawled out in a curt tone of voice. The items were placed into my hand, and then I bent down on one knee to set a spark inside of the fireplace. It was small, but I knew in time it would grow to immense heights. “It wasn’t that hard.”

Burnham soundlessly got off her feet and went over to the table without me.

“Would you still like me to get changed?” she asked with a sadness to her voice. “The food is ready, and I…”

I was on my feet now, standing in front of my chair with my hands arresting the two wooden knobs that stuck out from the top of my chair. She took in my appearance yet again, probably marveling at the golden print that was illuminated by the bright candlelight. “I will wait,” I told her, and waved my hand to dismiss her instantly.

The room felt cold once her presence was gone, so I uncorked the bottle and poured two glasses for us. I felt this was wrong on so many accounts, a slave should be hiding away in their room by now, letting me eat my meal in peace. _I must be lonely,_ I mused, _or completely stupid_.

Burnham took a while, and soon I was continuing my disjointed pacing across the carpeted floor of the dining room. My hands were placed behind my back, eyebrows furrowed fiercely the longer she took. _This is preposterous, I should just eat._ My dining room chair was just within my grasp, when I heard soft footsteps descending the staircase. I uncharacteristically moved away from the dining table and headed to the doorway where I could watch her walk down the length of the hallway. A candle in hand, it showed off her simple black dress that was as plain as it could possibly be in all settings. She looked nervous under my lugubrious stare, unaware that I would have picked out something much nicer for her. _I would decorate her in lace and silks,_ I thought, _and heavy furs to keep her warm._ I gritted my teeth, realizing the thoughts that had just come across my mind. _I must be mad,_ I reflected, and instantly headed back into the dining room to rephrase my state of mind.

“I am here,” she stated the obvious. The candleholder was placed not to far from her plate, and then she waited behind her seat to receive an order from me. I was currently standing before the growing fire, rubbing the side of my temple as though I had received an instant headache. _This was a mistake._ “Sir?”

“I am aware of that, Burnham.”

“Have I forgotten anything?” she timidly asked, becoming self-conscious the longer I ignored her presence. “Done something wrong?”

“I have a headache,” I lied, and then turned to her with a somber expression transpiring across my face. “Nothing more.”

“I am sorry, sir.” My bottom jaw jolted to the left, irritated by her standard address. “Should I dish out the food?”

“Yes.”

She performed her duties well, and it wasn’t until I sensed she was very nearly completed did I abandon the warmth of the fireplace and made my way to her. She waited patiently for me to take a seat, and only then did she settle herself perfectly into her own. I offered out a small prayer, and then lifted my glass of wine to take a sip at the savoury substance. She had noticed her own glass of wine but chose to ignore it. For the first few minutes we ate in silence, similar the first meal we shared together this morning. Eventually, the silence became to much and it was Burnham that was the first to speak: “Are you enjoying it, sir?”

“I am.”

Her fork froze in mid-air, slightly irritated that my tone of voice was so sharp and abrupt. _Did she expect me to dish out flatteries?_

“You did well,” I relayed, with a falsified air. She could tell my words were not genuine, and simply chose to continue with the rest of her meal.

“I only hoped it was better than the oatmeal,” she suddenly piped up, and then offered me a glare to show she could read my unuttered thoughts.

“Substantially better, yes.”

Burnham pushed her brussel sprouts around, clearly lost in her own musings. _Well, at least she is not behaving like a kitchen mouse._

“We could finish the last of the play tomorrow,” I suggested, hoping it would lighten the mood. My assumptions were right, Burnham suddenly dug her fork into the rounded green vegetable and plopped it into her mouth happily. “And then, you can look at some other works.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“And if there is anything you require… I can purchase it for you.” Her eyes fixated on me now, uncertain of the implications of my offer. “I have quite a library, but it is not entailed to a woman’s needs.”

“And what is a woman’s need?”

“Why, romance!” I exclaimed. “Obviously.”

“Obviously?” she echoed back, her voice filled with revulsion.

“Isn’t that all you women care about?” She bit on her tongue, intent on not arguing back with the master of the house. “You can speak freely, Burnham.”

“No, that is not all we _care_ about…” She bit down on her lip regrettably. “… sir.”

I gulped down a large mouthful of wine. “Hmmm, maybe not you,” I mused aloud, after I settled the wine glass. “But you’re an exception.”

“And why is that?”

“Well, you are very clever, aren’t you?” I asked aloud. “Brilliant actually.” She covered the side of her cheek after that, letting her gaze fall to her half-eaten food. “And I am deducing that only from our brief encounters,” I explained. “Though I feel once you fully grasp at the English language, your intelligence should be revealed to its full potentiality.”

 She glanced my way, full of uncertainty after my candid statement. She wanted to say something, I was almost sure of it, but something changed her mind and she began to eat her meal again.

My shoulders dropped, and I grievously reached for my wine glass to guzzle down half of it. My voice was course as I uttered over my glass: “If we shadows have offended, think but this, and all is mended.” Her eyebrows arched curiously, so I quickly explained, “You haven’t gotten to that part yet.”

“Are you quoting Shakespeare, sir?”

The corner of my lip twitched, pleased to see she found her voice after all. “You will just have to wait and see.”

Her gaze was long this time, and I felt there was something different about her look. There was a strength to it, bravery almost as she openly stared into my aqua blue eyes. Burnham’s gaze eventually fell, and she blinked hard at the plate in front of her after she tried to wrap her mind around what she had just done. She shouldn’t have stared at her master that way; those were Burnham’s thoughts as well as mine, but why did it feel like the most natural thing in the world?

I gripped at the handle of my fork, fighting back the desire to be near her. She was not so very far away, but the table seemed to outstretch itself between us. Our food had been untouched for several awkward moments, with only the cracking of fire to fill the awful silence. Burnham looked like she wanted to flee, and a part of me feared she was going to bolt out the door at any moment. She’s scared, I knew, unsure of herself and her current situation. _She wonders why I am being so kind, but how can I answer her question when I hardly know myself?_

I lifted my wine glass and drowned the last of it, and then raised myself from my seat slowly to retrieve the bottle that rested in the middle of the table. My voice was gruff as I barked out, “You haven’t touched yours.”

“I did tell you, sir, that I do not drink.”

“One bad experience shouldn’t taint your opinion of a good drink.” I snatched the nozzle of the bottle and sauntered over to my seat. The dark red coloured wine gushed into my empty cup, splashing down the side of the clear white glass till it was nearly full. _I will have to drink this one slower,_ I reminded myself, once I finally took a seat.

Burnham was nearly done her meal and looked like she was ready to go. _I didn’t want her to go,_ I realized, and then brought up the pastries I had bought for her earlier on today.

“I saw. Would you like me to heat up the pie?”

“Yes, and some coffee. It will pair well.”

She seized the opportunity immediately and bolted out of her seat like a horse charging down a race track. _I’m a fool,_ I thought to myself, and then soberly took to eating the rest of my meal with the feeling of a heavy heart residing in my chest.

* * *

We hardly spoke three words to one another, for the rest of the evening. She cleared the table, while I rested over the mantle of the fireplace to smoke a pipe leisurely. I made sure to avoid eye contact with her and pretended Copernicus’ writing was the most interesting thing in the room. A span of thirty minutes had passed before I heard the clattering of cups and lowered my book to see she was placing the necessary cutlery down for us to enjoy our dessert. I had half a mind to tell her to set it for only one, but then thought it would be incredibly rude. “I think that is everything, sir,” she said in a quiet voice, with one eye darting at me with hesitation. I grunted loudly at her and didn’t bother to move myself from my current position.

Burnham rubbed her hands down the sides of her dress nervously, clearly uncertain of my cold behaviour towards her.

“It is ready,” she stated, hoping it was enough to get me to move.

“Let me finish the last of the chapter,” I barked out, and then waved my hand at her to dismiss her from my presence. Burnham had no choice but to leave the room, and once she was gone for good, I shut my book grievously. _Damn her._

I retrieved my second glass of wine and took the last few sips that lurked at the bottom. _I’ll have to get rid of her._

She was clearly having an affect on me, much like the second glass of wine. I inhaled my pipe deeply, and then strolled across the carpet till I could reach the closed blinds. Brushing it to the side I looked at the cloudless sky, taking in the storm that was barreling itself down upon my empty street, nearly blinding my vision since it blotted out the lights from the street lamps overhead. _It will be a cold night,_ I mused, and had to remember to get extra blankets for my bed… and Burnham’s.

I called the insufferable woman into the dining room after a few minutes, making sure I was already seated before she had time to enter the room. I wasn’t sure if I was playing a game or not, since I was being so hot and cold. She was to be company, that was it, so I hated that small part of me that wanted more.

“Pour my coffee,” I instructed, as though I lost the mobility to my hands. She leaned close to the table beside me, outstretching her arm as she poured the black contents into my cup. Burnham was near enough for me to see that her eyes were heavy, as if she was fighting back the tears that were glossing around her eyes. “I’m sorry, Burnham,” I uttered in almost a whisper.

The young woman never responded, and instead walked over to her chair where she pulled it back with a certain level of exhaustion. “Thank you for the pastry,” she softly uttered, before she bit into the cookies I purchased for her- chocolate pistachio shortbread.

“You are welcome,” I uttered in a similar tone to hers. “It will be very cold tonight…” Burnham looked almost uncomfortable by my statement. “I will show you the cupboard where I have extra blankets stored. Make sure you take as much as you need, given how slender you are.”

The girl batted her eyelashes nervously, as if my observation embarrassed her.

“You will let me know if your room is cold.”

“If it pleases you.”

“It does.”

“Then… I will, sir.”

“My name is Gabriel,” I informed her. “You needn’t say _sir_ all the time.”

The flash of embarrassment worsened, unfortunately, and she took to fidgeting with her cookie till it nearly crumbled in her hand.

“I gathered enough information to know you will _remember_ your station.”

“Yes, sir,” she blurted out, without thinking it through. “And I could never call you that, it would be… grossly inappropriate.”

“The mere fact that you say words such as “grossly” proves to me that you have a sound mind, fully capable of determining when you should call me by my Christian name. If it makes you so uncomfortable however, General Lorca will suit.”

“General Lorca,” she repeated with her native accent.

“Correct.”

A small smile graced her lips, somewhat pleased by my approval. She was a strangely curious creature, and perhaps that was the reason I was so drawn to her. A sudden desire overwhelmed me, wanting to remove myself from my seat to be at her side. The thought alone forced me to abandon my seat, but it was not her arms I intended to hold- no, I quickly strode out the door with the excuse I had to go to the _toilettes_ ; the spell was broken the minute I walked out the door, and I let out a deep breath with the relief that the urge had passed over me. Why it had come in the first place was still a mystery to me?

* * *

Upon my return, Burnham’s side of the table was perfectly cleared. The remainder of my pie was left in the center of my plate, my cup of coffee probably luke warm by now. Burnham had left to clean up her things, possibly taking longer than usual simply to avoid me. _I’m glad the feeling is mutual._

I took my time eating my dessert, pleased it managed to retain some warmth after my lengthy disappearance. A full stomach and two glasses of wine put me in an agreeable mood, and I found my legs outstretched underneath the table with eyes slightly closed, overwhelmed with the need for my bed given the fact that it was so late in the evening. I heard soft footsteps pad across the carpeted floor, and only when Burnham was a few steps away from me did I rap out, “What took you so long?”

She must have been caught off-guard, since my eyes were fully shut. “I wash washing up, General Lorca.” I almost grimaced at her words, finding it ill-suited to our current situation. _No, that will not bode well for me either._

“Did you enjoy your desert?”

“Yes, and I had a bit of the pie too. I think it is the best apple pie I’ve ever had. Where did you get?”

“Parcelle’s Bakery,” I muttered, with a single eye open to watch her. She was standing next to my left elbow, unusually close, but it was only later did I realize she was attempting to retrieve my empty plate.

“It was very good,” she replied quietly, before she left the room with my empty plate and cup. A deep sigh escaped me, hating the fact that she was gone as soon as she appeared. Not thinking it through, I gathered up the last of my strength to climb out of my chair with every intention of following her.

She must have heard my footsteps, for her pace picked up suddenly and she darted into the kitchen as if she was looking for cover. I took my time getting there, and once I edged myself through the open doorway, I made sure my hands blocked both sides of the entranceway. She held a black towel in her hand, glaring at me with uneasiness, like she was a fly caught in a spider’s web. “Is there anything you require, sir?”

 _Gabriel,_ I thought, and found myself biting my lip at the mere thought of it.

“I was just cleaning up the kitchen, but…” Burnham shook the towel nervously in her hands. “… if you need anything.”

“I was about to ask you that.”

“No.” Her voice trembled as she uttered it, the towel wringing tightly in her hands. “I am just fine.”

“No need of assistance?”

“I will be done soon enough.” She turned her back to me and showed she could dry off the plates on her own. I stepped through the doorway, positioning myself behind her back to glare at the small margins of exposed skin at the back of her neck. Her dress was so superbly modest, quite simple, and I desired to adorn her with something else.

“If you really want to help,” she spoke aloud, since she sensed there was no way to get rid of me. “You might tell me what you wish to do with this bottle.” Burnham pointed her finger up ahead, highlighting the half filled bottle on the countertop that was stealthily hiding her untouched glass of wine that she had been avoiding the entire night.

“Only if you take a sip of your drink.”

“That is not fair, sir.”

“Its not fair to waste a perfectly good drink.”

She turned around to face me, and with some wavering hesitation placed the towel in front of my chest. “Only…” She licked her lips nervously, and then decided not to finish her statement. “I have to finish the dishes.”

“Let me,” I told her, and snatched the towel from her hand gruffly, before I reached past the side of her arm to grab at a plate. She was trapped suddenly, being several inches from my chest as I leaned forward to take a better hold of my highly expensive plate. Her smell was intoxicating, and she was so close I could see the thinly curled eyelashes that were half closed with suspense. She hated me being so close or was it just pure nerves to be so close to a man- a man that was not her husband. “Take a sip,” I commanded, after I took a light step away from her to create some space. “Tell me what you think.”

She back-peddled into the shadows, and only then reached for her full glass of wine to give it a light slip. “It is strong,” she remonstrated in the shadows of the room. “And full to the taste.”

“Exactly how I like it. Bold, robust and swimming with flavours.”

She licked at her top lip, and without realizing sucked them both in to savour the last of the flavour. “Yes,” was all she said, before she set the glass down back in its place. “Where should I store this bottle of wine.”

“I lost the cap, but there should be some extra corks somewhere in the kitchen. I’ll put it on, and then enjoy the rest of it tomorrow. Is there enough for left overs?”

“The chicken-”

“-excellent,” I cut in. “Less likely I will have to go out into the storm tomorrow to find us something to eat. It looks like I will be home all day, Burnham.” She looked uneasy at that prospect and did not hide it well as she stepped back into the candlelight. “But don’t worry, I’ll be out of your way.”

I left a wider gap between us, as I began to search for a suitable cork. Once the wine was stored away, I leaned against the countertop and watched her clean up the last of the kitchen, noticing she was delaying the inevitable. “It’s getting late,” I observed. “Come upstairs.”

“I just have-”

“-it can wait,” I interrupted. “Don’t let me ask you again.” She quickly walked past me and made sure she was out of the room before I even had a chance to follow her. She was a fool, however, for I simply lengthened my strides until I was at her side in the middle of the staircase. “You move quickly,” I observed aloud.

“I thought it best to listen,” she rebutted with an edge to her voice.

“I don’t like repeating myself.”

“I understand, sir.”

“Then why do you keep calling me _sir?_ ” I argued back, and found my hand gripping her arm to hold her still. “It is beyond infuriating.”

She looked shocked by my touch, caught off-guard by the tenseness of my hand as it rounded itself over her entire arm. _She so delicate I could almost break her,_ I thought, but knew her body was so very different from her mind.

“Because I am a slave!” she shouted out bitterly. “And I should be treated like one. Or am I supposed to be something else to you?”

“No, Burnham,” I said through gritted teeth. “You’re not.”

She looked down at my hand, wishing I would release my hardened grip. My fingers released its tension, and I slowly dropped my hand away, but not before I let it glide down the length of it till I reached her wrists. She seemed to shudder at my touch and did her best to avoid my ardent gaze. “What do you want?”

“What?”

“What do you want?” she repeated. “From me?”

“I want nothing.”

“Then will you let me go up the rest of the stairs?” she inquired, with a slight fearfulness to her voice.

I took a step back and let her pass me sullenly. She never climbed up the stairs so fast in her life, I was almost sure of it. She passed my bedroom door and was just about to enter her own, when I called out her name in a voice that demanded her attention. “Not yet,” I shot out, and raised up a hand to show I meant her to stay where she was.

I was on the same leveled ground as her now, standing in front of my bedroom door as I glared at her. “The comforters,” I relayed in an icy voice. “Come with me.” I opened my bedroom door and went inside without even considering the fact that she might not follow me. I heard her footsteps approach the open doorway, her eyes scanning my room with fearfulness and avid curiosity. “Take it,” I bellowed, and placed a heavy blanket and one large comforter into her hands. “Let me know if you are in need of more.”

She stared into my eyes, trying to decipher its meaning. _If she thought I was trying to seduce her into my bed, she was wrong._

“It will be enough, sir.”

“Off to bed, Michael,” I said in a softer tone of voice, and then stood in front of the open doorway to watch her leave and slowly walk her way back into her bedroom. I shut the door behind me, locking it in place and then trudged my way across the wooden floor with every intention of spending the rest of my night in bed- trying to forget the lingering desire that held an uncomfortable place in the back of my mind. _I’ll have to get rid of her, if not for her own sake but mine._

 


	4. Supression

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The feelings Gabriel's been holding back are finally bubbling up to the surface of his conscious mind, but what will happen when he finally realizes what kind of relationship he wants with Burnham?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not like the "n" word. I will never use it, but unfortunately it will pop up in this story from time to time for historical purposes. I apologize for the offensive language in advance,
> 
> petyrbaaaeeelish

It was early in the morning when I was shoveling snow off my neighbour’s walkway. He was an old French Jesuit, a crippling elderly man that didn’t have enough strength to lift a shovel with his own two hands. I hardly spoke to him, but I found it in the good of my heart to do him this small favour. The sun was bright over my head, blinding me when it bounced off the white snow and went barrelling into the center of my clear blue orbs. I pulled down my long brim hat, wishing it could block out all the light. Perspiration was felt underneath my arm pits, rolling down my back as I continued to heap up the heavy snow.

 _Anything is better than being in that house,_ I deliberated, and ignored the rumblings of my stomach that was demanding breakfast. In truth I was avoiding Burnham for as long as it was humanly possible, but sooner or later I would have to return to the house again.

The front door swung open, and one of my neighbour’s servants descended the snowy front porch with every intention to speak to me. “I know I don’t have to do it, but I did,” I spat out, before the middle-aged man could even have a word.

“General Lorca,” he spoke, with his voice dripping with a roguish French accent. “My master wishes to thank you.”

I nodded my head at him gruffly, and then took a step backwards so I could continue my work. The man was just retreating when a thought suddenly occurred to me. “I hired a new servant!” I yelled out, and then leaned on the top of shovel’s handle as I took a good look at the bald-headed man. “Its Sunday, and I thought… well, is there a church for negros?”

“There is.”

“You mind giving me the address, so I can tell her. Its Sunday, and I’ll be off soon, but I thought she might like it.”

The man repeated the address to me, and I let him say it two more times until it was imprinted in my mind forever. I thanked him quietly, and then continued the rest of my work, knowing I would soon have to go inside to wash up and change.

I was hardly in the doorway when I felt someone was watching me, and I looked up to see Burnham standing in the entrance way of the drawing room with a serious expression. _Was she looking for me?_ I turned my back to her, and slipped off my hat, letting it crash to the floor next to my feet. I could hear her soft footsteps padding against the floor, and it wasn’t until I turned around that I saw her retrieving my hat off the ground, for her to hang it up lightly on the hook perched against the wall. “I’ll take your coat, sir,” she nearly whispered, and took a tiny space back to create space.

I handed it to her begrudgingly, and then leaned against the wall to kick off my heavy leather boots. “I’m going to wash up and change,” I informed her. “I’ll have breakfast then. Its not oatmeal, is it?”

“I baked bread,” she told me. “You will have it with eggs, if that serves you well?”

“It suits me perfectly,” I grunted, and then flung the last of my boot across the floor with a burst of energy. “I’ll be upstairs.” I made sure to avoid her presence, as I strode past her and never stopped for a single moment untill I had locked the bedroom door behind me.

* * *

 I was just sipping on my first cup of tea for the day when she took a seat opposite me. A tension fell over the table immediately, as we both took turns avoiding each other eyes.

“You slept well?” I asked, hoping small talk would break this anxious spell. “You were as silent as the night.”

“I slept well.”

“I’m glad I didn’t hear any tears of _joy,_ ” I jeered, before I bit into the warm slice of bread. I didn’t bother to look up at her, and instead let my gaze fall over the veins bulging out of the tops of my hand.

The sound of a knife clattering on the plate drew my attention, and I immediately spotted a fire in her eyes. _She’s angry… good._

“When will you be leaving for church?” she asked, as though she was anxious for me to be gone.

“Ten o’clock,” I drawled out nice and slow.

“I will have lunch ready for you, by the time you get back.”

“No need, Burnham, since you will be going to church as well.” I reiterated the address, and then assured her it was perfectly safe since my neighbour’s slaves attended that very church. “You may very well find someone to walk you home,” I suggested, though I instantly regretted it the moment it escaped my lips.

“Thank you, sir,” was all that she said, before she finished up the last of her breakfast.

“You have quite a stomach,” I observed, noticing how keen she was to depart from the table. “Stay a few minutes more.” Her plan was thwarted, she had to stay with me for an indefinite amount of time. “Who taught you how to read in the first place?” I asked, as a simple means to engage in conversation.

“A friend.”

“Was he black or white?”

“He was… a negro, sir.”

“Intelligent like you?”

She simply nodded her head, and then spun her cup around idly to watch the liquid move around at the very bottom. “You know my neighbour’s servants can’t read or write,” I quipped. “They can barely speak English, except Abel.”

“That is unfortunate,” she softly replied, though it took great pains for her to say it.

“What do you intend to do with all that knowledge?”

“I hardly know, sir.”

“I mean… you teach yourself all these things, but in the end.” I paused, knowing the next few words would offend her. “You will always be a slave.”

Her nails clashed against the smooth surface of the cup. Dark eyes fell to the table space between us, her mind churning over what I had said. “Maybe one day it won’t be like that,” she said with sudden hopefulness. “With all due respect, sir.”

“Understood.” She bit down her lip fretfully, and then let her hand glide away from the cup and rest upon the table. “Today you will read out a novel to me,” I prompted up. “Maybe that will expand your vocabulary.” _And your common sense,_ I thought, but decided it was best not to utter it aloud.

“Will we finish _A Midsummer Night’s Dream?_ ”

“If time permits it.” Burnham sipped on the last of her tea, and quietly signaled to me that she was finished. “You may go wash up.”

The girl left slowly, showing she wasn’t completely satisfied that she was leaving my presence. _Maybe the feeling goes both ways,_ I curiously wondered, and then leaned back in my chair with all the comforts in the world. It was a pity I would have to get dressed and start the day, but duty called, and I removed myself from my chair to go upstairs to change.

Time passed by, and eventually I found Burnham in the laundry room. She took in my outfit with a proudful look about her, apparently liking the sky-blue waistcoat that sat snuggly over my large form. I rubbed my white cravat nervously, uncertain why I was pleased by her approval. “I’m just heading out,” I told her in a low tenor. “And it’s the day of Sabbath, you can leave the table linens alone for one more day.”

“But, sir,” she complained, given the fact that they were already soaked in water.

“You are supposed to be upstairs changing,” I chided. “A protestant church will suit you fine, won’t it? Although you are French, it is so hard to tell these days.”

“I follow the same church as my master,” she cunningly replied, with a shadow of a smirk.

“Clever as a fox,” I muttered.

She heard my sly remark, and simply raised herself to her feet with her hand dragging down her uniform. _How many does she own, they all look exactly like?_

“Are you going?” I chided and moved myself away from the doorway so she could have a clear view.

“I am.”

She barely passed me before I quickly followed her, matching her steps till I was practically on top of hers. Her hand clutched the handrail once we got to the staircase, and I had to resist every urge to wrap my arms around her from behind. “General Lorca, you are too close,” she suddenly spat out with a heated breath.

“My apologies.” I took a step back, but then positioned myself to be by her side. “I forgot something upstairs,” I lied, realizing I had no reason to go upstairs.

She bit down on her lip heavily, and for the first time ever I felt the desire to smooth out the firmness of her lips with my own. I swallowed hard at that, and found my feet faltering so much that I lost my balance and nearly fell- Burnham caught me with two stable hands. “Sir?” she breathed, as I leaned heavily against her chest. I had found my hands wrapped behind her back, pushing her into the banister with all my weight upon her. She was breathing heavily, aware of how long my eyes were diving into her own. “Sir,” she panted, desperate for me to be off her.

“I fell,” I muttered, and pressed my hands against the banister to lean off her chest. “I’m sorry.”

She nodded her head nervously, eyes wide with a wave of alarm. Her hands trembled beside her, and that betrayal forced her to hold it in front of her as she sprinted up the staircase. I leaned my weight against the banister carefully, trying to catch my breath and heavy beating that crashed itself against the left side of my chest. _I should go,_ I deliberated, and walked the exact opposite direction as her until I could fling on my coat and stomp out the front door.

* * *

The pastor was preaching, but my thoughts were slowly being consumed by something entirely different. _What the heck is going on? I’m not really attracted to this woman, am I?_

_No._

My eyes flickered from side to side, taking in the gothic styled columns to this cathedral. The structure was very old, once belonging to the French Catholics, but somehow or other we managed to procure it.

 _I can’t believe I’m even considering this,_ my mind continued _, she’s a slave girl._

I shifted in my seat, startled to hear the entire assembly turn the pages to the Holy Bible at the exact same time. My copy was still closed, placed neatly over my lap. I tried to take a glance at my neighbour to spot the page number, but even with my glasses I couldn’t make the page number out.

_Look what she is doing to me, I can’t even focus._

People were standing up in their pews, taking out the music book to look at the lyrics to the hymn we were about to sing. I fumbled with my own book, noticing how much my hands sweated and trembled from my distrustful thoughts. _The feelings weren’t replicated you fool, you probably scared her half to death when you fell on her. What you think you saw something in her eyes! Look who’s the romantic now._

My conscious was scolding to me, added to the pounding voice of the preacher who kept rapping out, “Forgiveness! Forgiveness!” at every other interval. _I need to go home and get rid of that girl once and for all, otherwise she’ll ruin me._

 _Or will I ruin her,_ I worried, and hoped there was nothing in my power to seduce my dependent slave.

People ushered out of the pews suddenly, and that is when I realized the sermon had finally come to an end. I lifted my hat off the bench beside me, placing the broad brimmed hat over my head and sluggishly walked out with the rest of the crowd until I approached the front doors. The frigid air greeted me immediately, making the tip of my nose ache from the strong winds that gusted directly against my face. My arm as a shield, I trudged through the deep snow with every effort to get home as soon as possible, despite the awkward predicament that would face me the moment I stepped through the doors.

I was wrong however; the house was entirely empty and devoid of another human soul. Hot beyond comprehension, for I had run the latter half of my journey home, I was quick to open the back windows to my house where the “servant’s quarters” were and leaned my head out the great window to try and catch my breath. This part of the house was unused, a design flaw that I inherited when I decided to loan out this small apartment. The French were quite apt to have numerous slaves, but the British were less inclined to that action, or at least in this part of what is formally known as “New France”. I was just wiping the beads of sweat from my face when I heard a man’s voice outside my window. He was speaking loudly, and quite pleasantly despite of the harsh winds that must have been blowing hard against him.

“ _Je suis désolé monsieur_ ,” Burnham quickly replied. “I must go inside,” she continued in the English language. 

“ _Oui!_ ” the man responded. “But, of course.” 

“ _Au revoir!_ ” she yelled out prettily, and before I knew it, she burst open the back door with a key in hand. A small smile played upon her face, but it darkened and quickly slipped away once she spotted me.

“Well, you’re making friends,” I said with respite.  

“ _Copains?_ ” she asked mistakenly in French. It was clearly taking longer for her to code-switch, remembering she was in an environment where she could no longer speak her native tongue. “Oh, sir!” she exclaimed with feeling. “It was only our neighbour Henri’s man servant, Hugh Culber.” 

“Yes, the young attractive one,” I nearly sneered. Burnham removed her thin gloves, to reveal the tip of her fingers were numb and nearly frigid to the bone. She tried to unclasp the front button to her coat and failed miserably at them. “Or did you think I would not notice?” I sharply asked, as I walked towards her.  

“I had only met him today, sir, and he was _very_ kind.” 

“Undoubtedly so.” I stood directly in front of her, watching how she very nearly fidgeted with the buttons in a vain attempt to set it free. “Hold still,” I ordered, and slowly lifted my hands to hover it over her own. “Move them away,” I commanded, and stood perfectly still until her hands reluctantly dropped to her sides. “I’ll buy you new gloves as soon as I can.”  

Burnham opened her mouth, but it quickly slammed shut once she felt the heat of my hand brushing against the bottom of her chin; the buttons were a cumbersome nuisance as I tried to loosen it away from the hole. I could not deny I felt some unwelcome feeling down below but chose to ignore it as I undid the first button. Her breath was held in suspense, and only when I lowered it away from her chin, did she look like she could breath again. “Culber is a nice lad,” I relayed softly. “He might suit you well.” 

She curled her fingers inwardly and pressed them into the sides of her hips. In a shaky voice she answered me: “I am not looking for anything.” 

“Yet.” I was working on her third button now, which just so happened to be directly over her chest. The poor girl looked like she was about to lose her sanity, but still I brushed my harsh knuckles to her chest as I tried to unearth the tiny black pocket. “Who bought you this coat?”

“My master gave it to me.” 

“And did he not care for your warmth?” 

“He had other matters that concerned him.” 

“Your warmth and safety should have been his top concern,” I mused allowed, after the third button was free. She reached her hands upwards, lightly grazing against mine as she protested she could finish the rest. “Well, as long as you are sure,” I huffed out, feeling just as alarmed as she was, when her fingers briefly laid over mine with an effort to push them away. It was the greatest difficulty I let my hands stray away from her, and even then, I made no effort to step back.  

“Thank you, General Lorca,” she stated cooly, clearly determined to avoid my arduous gaze. There was no room for her to back up, so she was forced to stay where she was; her gaze was downcast with fear, but even that would not force me to take a step back. “I hope you are okay after your fall?” 

“Much better, thank you.” The air grew tenser, for I had lowered my gaze directly to her plump lips. Burnham tongue jutted the inside of her right cheek. I could sense she wasn’t afraid anymore, there was something else playing inside of her mind.

“Sir, if I could just…” Burnham looked down at the last few buttons, and blatantly attempted to undo the last few.

“Your hands are still frozen,” I entreated, and leaned my head forward with a slight bend of my knees. “Let me do it.” 

“But…” Her words halted when I gently slapped her hands away, and took my time undoing the first button that needed to be fixed. Burnham tried to lean backwards, making every effort to create space but she soon lost her balance and had to grab a hold of my arm to keep her from falling. “Oh!” she nearly squealed, and instantly removed her hand seeing what she had done. “I’m sorry, I…” 

“It’s nothing.” 

“Sir, you really don’t have to do-” 

“-Burnham,” I cut in. “Stop being _difficult._ ” 

 _I have two more to go,_ I noted, as I moved my hand downwards with every awareness of where it led too. _So much for being a godly man._  

“Sir,” she complained, once my hands hovered just over her waist. 

“Not another word,” I warned, and did my best to not lean my hand into her waist. In the end, I had to bend down on one knee, squinting at the button that wanted to hide itself in the dim lighting of the room. “In future, you will remember to wear proper gloves.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“And I will see what I can do about a new jacket,” I voiced aloud. “Given how unsuitable it is.” 

 _Got it!_ The last button was much to low for our liking, so I lowered my hands to the floor to lift myself back to my feet. “I think…” I made sure to avoid her gaze, since I was sure she could catch the blush rising to my cheeks. “… you can finish the rest, Michael.” I left her after that and made sure to head out of the dingy little room as fast as I could, quite forgetting I left the window wide open for all to hear our awkward conversation.  

* * *

My feather pen was just dipping into a container full of ink when I heard a knock on the door. “Come in!” I yelled out, and lowered the pen once Burnham entered the room. “Yes, what is it?”

“Lunch will be ready in five minutes, sir.”

“Can you make it ten, I’m just finishing a letter.”

“It is only sandwiches.”

“Not the same one as yesterday.”

“No, sir.”

“Good! There is nothing I hate more than repetition.” She was just about to close the door, when I raised up my free hand to stop her. “I hope you don’t think I was taking any certain liberties earlier?”

“Um… no.”

“I was only trying to help.”

“Yes, I know,” she admitted lightly, though she looked uncomfortable saying it.

“Will you have lunch with me?” I blurted out, unaware of the words that had suddenly escaped my mouth.

“Well… I…”

“It was only a question, Burnham.”

“You see…”

 _I do hate when she stutters and stops like an idiot._ “You will be joining me,” I surmised. “Set the table for two and make it fifteen minutes.”

“Yes, sir,” she nearly wailed, and promptly closed the door behind her. _Maybe I’m the idiot after all._

My sister’s letter was complete, along with the small present I left for my nephew in the hopes he would enjoy the read on his name’s day. Items shoved inside of a bulky envelope, I left my desk somewhat orderly before I made my way to the dining room. Burnham had made us fish sandwiches, with a side of vegetables. It was light enough to satisfy me until dinner, for which I was grateful. There was a book on her side of the table, proving to me that she had at least some spare time to read; when I passed by her side of the table, I saw she had brought forth Shakespeare’s play, and could only assume she wanted to go over the last of _Midsummer Night’s Dream_.

“Do you intend to avoid me?” I questioned her, once I had finally taken my seat. “Bringing a book to the table.”

“I was hoping I might convince you to read it,” she said with sudden frankness.

“Oh?”

“Could you?”

“Are you asking me to read, instead of enjoying my meal?” I gibed, feeling the need to torment her suddenly.

“No, sir.”

“Then you know my answer.”

“Yes… how very silly of me,” she confessed aloud, which instantly raised my eyes in her direction. _She is brave enough to find her tongue, and I quickly stamp upon it._

“I will read it after I am done my meal,” I stated. “Now, hand me the salt and pepper.”

The rest of the meal was consumed quietly, but there was no tension apparent- for once. As a matter of fact, she gladly told me about her day, adding a few jokes here and there that somehow made me laugh. She was quite witty when she was ready, and incredibly sharp. I lost my tongue, however, when she had asked me about my own sermon that I attended this morning. “You can’t remember?” she asked out with surprise. “Why not?”

“I wasn’t exactly listening,” I said in truth. “I was distracted.”

“By what?”

“Well…” I suddenly found my sandwich more interesting and stuffed it in my mouth instead. The matter was quickly dropped, and Burnham knew it would be at her peril to bring the matter up again.

Given the fact that the drawing room was more comfortable we both settled ourselves there, my legs outstretched across the cleanly swept carpet, and my arm resting along the back of the couch where Burnham’s head was partially leaning against it. She had managed to create enough space to calm her down, but the arm that invited her in, appeared to be the greatest menace for her. “Fair love, you faint with wandering in the wood,” I began in a low tenor, trying my best to act out the scene with carefully pronounced words to emphasis the points. “And to speak truth, I have forgot our way. We’ll rest us, Hermia, if you think it good.” Burnham had to move in closer, knowing that another female part was near. “And tarry for the comfort of the day.”

Her fingers laid on the very edges of the page to tilt it in her direction. “Be it so, Lysander. Find you out a bed. For I upon this bank will rest my head.” She smiled suddenly at me, and remarked, “She’s smart.”

“Oh?”

“Does he really think she will give in that easily?”

“Let’s see, shall we.” I moved myself closer to her side of the couch, and in a pleasant voice relayed, “One turf shall serve as pillow for us both; One heart, one bed, two bosoms, and one troth.” I felt the need to stop there, feeling a similar state of mind as the character I was playing. I turned my gaze off the page and stared into the girl’s dark brown eyes, noticing how they were suddenly full of warmth and light.

“General,” she breathed, probably sensing where my thoughts were steering too. “Is that all?”

“Gabriel.”

“Gabriel,” she softly spoke, with her beloved accent giving the name a whole new meaning. “Is that all?”

“See for yourself.”

She had no choice but drag the back of her head against my arm, tilting her body forward to better see the page. It was so easy to wrap my arms around her, so easy to lay her down on the couch and cover her lips with kisses. My hand tightened just behind her head, and she must have felt the rest of my arm tense suddenly. “I…” she nervously spoke out and pressed her hand deep into the couch surface as she tried to keep her body from falling into me. “Oh, its my turn.”

“Yes, Hermia,” I teased, before I leaned my face closer to her own.

“Nay, good Lysander,” she began. “For my sake, my dear, Lie further off yet: do not lie so near.” She smiled after that passage, realizing she was not the only one in this awful predicament. “I like her.”

“Yes, you would! Wouldn’t you?” She began to laugh at me, using her other hand to cover out her mouth as she raptured out a heartfelt laughter. My arm unconsciously curled into her space and landed right at her back- she froze. “Sorry, my arm grew tired,” I lied, seeing I didn’t have the strength to lift it off her.

“I don’t think we should read anymore then.”

“But its my part next,” I retorted. “Let me at least say a few more lines.”

“I think we should-”

“-Oh, take the _sense,_ sweet, of my innocence! Love takes the meaning in love’s conference.” I paused to look at her, seeing she was not moving out the grasp of my hand just yet. “I mean that my _heart_ unto yours is knit.”

Burnham shivered under my touch, once she felt my fingers curl inward and grasp on the outer edges of her waist. She grew frightened suddenly, like a bird that wanted to shoot into the air; she moved out of my grip and was desperately trying to stand on her feet. “Burnham!” I called out, but she ignored me and quickly walked away from me.

“I have too…” The poor girl couldn’t even finish the sentence, she was fleeing from her consciousness- maybe even herself.

“Michael!” I shouted out, and suddenly ran after her as if everything depended upon it. “Michael, wait.”

“Please! Please don’t call me that,” she cried out, once she sensed I was right behind her. “Its Burnham and sir, and that’s all it can ever be.”

“Michael.”

“No, please.”

“Michael.”

“No,” she wailed, and finally turned her entire body in my direction. “I know what you are trying to do, but no. I’m not Hermia… you’re not Lysander. This isn’t some place-”

“- I never thought it was,” I interjected.

“Sir, please let me go,” she fought back, once I took a hold of her arms to drag her forward. “Please.”

“Michael.”

“No,” she said with her head dipping low in solemn defeat.

“You will not let me call you by your Christian name?”

“No, sir.”

“Are we not friends, Michael?”

“No.”

I bit down on my lips, feeling like I was bickering with a stubborn child. I held her tightly, bringing her closer till she was nearly pressed against my chest. Her head was still stooped downwards so I lightly kissed the top of her head, pressing my face into her luscious curls. _Ah, that is where the smell is coming from._

“Please, let me go,” she asked in a small voice. I let out a long sigh into her hair, and then released my grip from her entirely.

“Then go,” I ordered, and felt a wave of regret the second she backed away and ran down to the servant’s quarters. Delirious with feelings I slammed an open hand into the wall, and then pushed myself away from the dreaded spot. My mind was in a haze as I walked down the rest of the hallway, and once I saw the couch, I slammed a closed fist into the side of it. _Imbecile._

The book laid out in the center of the couch mockingly, and I had half a mind to shred it to pieces. I was just lifting the spine of the book off the couch when I heard hurried steps behind me. “Michael?” I asked, before the sound grew even louder and I realized she was in the room with me.

“What do you want from me?” she nearly screamed out, her once passive face nearly enraged with emotion.

“I only want your company, Michael.”

“And is that all?”

“Yes, of course, that is all.”

“I mean… you don’t want…” She bit down at her lip, unable to go on further. “The kind of thing a husband desires to do with his wife.”

“Make love to you?” I nearly exclaimed. “No, Burnham.”

“Oh,” she breathed out thankfully. “I thought… well…”

 _There she goes, stuttering again._ I rolled my eyes at her, and slowly approached her, hoping she could not see the clever lie I was hiding behind my eyes. The truth is, I did want her, but I hadn’t exactly realized it till she posed the question. “No, Burnham.”

She shrank from me, after I stretched my arm out further. “Are you speaking in truth?”

“I swear it.” _May god forgive me._ “I mean you no harm.” Michael Burnham did not believe me, it was clearly apparent as she edged herself away from me and took to the shadows of the hallway. “Have I given you any other implications, otherwise?”

“So, you don’t want me?” she asked, using a question as a means to pose another question.

“Want _you?_ ”

“It’s the way you look at me.”

“Michael, you are a beautiful woman,” I argued back, once I joined her in the shadows of the hallway. “How could I not?”

“You shouldn’t say such a thing.” She nearly shivered over my wavering touch, the slightest stroke along the outside of her arm. “Its not proper.”

“No, I suppose not.” I could sense my eyes were darkening and was eternal thankful for the shadows. Her silhouette was the only thing distinguishable now, her long eyelashes blinking nervously as I drew myself closer to her shade.

“Sir?”

“You know I don’t like that word.”

“What do you want?” she asked in a strong, commanding voice.

“I don’t know what I want,” I lied, as I leaned my head forward, just letting it stay inches away from her face.

Burnham leaned her hand against my chest, steading me so I couldn’t come any further. “I think I know exactly what you want.”

“Do you?”

“And it cannot be, sir.”

“Why not?”

“Why not?” she echoed.

“Yes,” I said in a husky voice, clearly losing the last of my sanity as we stood so close together in the sacred darkness. I laid a large hand over the side of her face, and when she didn’t fight back, I let it stroke over the surface of her smooth cheek with a strange possessiveness. _If she doesn’t push me back, I’ll end up kissing her._ “Michael?” I asked, feeling the need to test out the water. She wasn’t fighting back, but she was leaning forward either. “Michael?”

Her lack of response was more than enough, I inched my face forward and tilted it slightly to press a gentle kiss on her lips. _Nothing._ I inched backwards, seeing if she had at least some response to the aftermath of my chaste kiss.

I heard her lick her lips, and that was enough to bring forth a smirk over my face. Our faces were still incredibly close, and I was tempted to dip my feet into the waters again. The pressure on my chest became harder, however, and in a small voice she uttered: “ _That_ is what you want, sir.”

I moved backwards and let her pass me. Knowing fully well she was going upstairs to pack up her things, even if she knew the laws themselves would never allow her to leave me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to comment on what you think of the story so far. Thanks for taking the time to read this!
> 
> petyrbaaaeeelish


	5. Seduction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael Burnham might be aware of Gabriel's game, but that doesn't mean she won't fall prey to it.

I had long snuffed out the candles, leaving the upper hallway in complete darkness. I leaned my back heavily over the wooden banister, crossing my legs as I sat upon the stool just outside of her door. Burnham’s room was silent on the inside, but that did not mean she wasn’t coming up with a plan. Perhaps, I was a fool after all; no master would patiently wait outside of their servant’s room for them to have a “talk”. It had been well over an hour now, and still Burnham had locked herself away in her room.

I began to wonder if this was becoming an obsession, my infatuation for her was taking to new heights. There was nothing remarkable about this woman, but I felt like there was a string steadily pulling me in to her. I knew in spite of her rejection, there were lingering feelings on her side too.

 _She must think I want her to be my mistress,_ I deliberated, and found it to be so far from the truth. I don’t believe I could think of her that way, but it was too early to tell- I had only just discovered the depths of my feelings for her hours before.

Burnham made some shuffling sounds, and soon her bedroom door opened with a small handbag placed under her arm. She noticed me suddenly, and moved quickly to shut the door between us, but I bolted out of my chair and slammed my shoulder to the door to let it swing widely and slam into the wall in the inside of her bedroom. Burnham dropped her bag and took a step back, full of fear as I came in closer. “Please,” she begged, and pressed her hands against her chest with pure terror.

“I only want to talk.”

“Please, let me go.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

“Please, sir,” she wailed. “I do not want this… I’m…”

“Burnham,” I chided in a tired voice. “Just sit down, will you?” I pointed at the side of the bed, which only made her agitation worse. “I won’t hurt you, I only want to talk.”

“I’m not interested-”

“-good!” I interjected, before her sentence could go on any further. “Sit down.” She plopped down on the bed and gripped the sides of her uniform as if she feared I would rip them off her frame. “I won’t touch you,” I promised her, and then moved across the room to retrieve the candlelight that she had stealthily hidden underneath a lamp shade. “What did you plan to do once you snuck out?”

There was a silence on her end, and it maintained that way as I walked across the cold wooden floor of her room to get to her bed. “You know the laws,” I reminded her. “You are clever enough to know you cannot leave me.”

“Yes,” she admitted quietly. “But I couldn’t let you do it to me.”

“What kind of man do you take me for, Burnham?” The girl brought her fingers to her mouth, and bit down on the side of her knuckle. “A rapist?”

“No, sir.”

“Well, that’s what you are implying.” My voice grew cold as I added, “I could never do that to you.”

“Sir, men in your station are allowed to take such liberties.”

“Only if they have the slave’s consent,” I reminded her. “Which I don’t.”

“And you will not have it,” she blurted out without thinking.

“I never asked for it.”

“General Lorca, what exactly are your intentions?”

“To make you as comfortable as possible in my home,” I assured her. I leaned my hand upon the bed and shifted my weight on an angle so I could lean myself closer to her. “And to enjoy your company.”

“I’ve never met anyone quite like you before.”

“Thank you, Burnham,” I softly replied, and felt that never ending need to be near her overcome me again. I leaned into her form slightly more, until my entire frame blocked out the candlelight and casted her in shadows. “I’d say the same for you.”

“Sir, you will not harm me?”

“Never.”

“You know I was removed from my last station because my master’s wife believed me to be seducing her husband. I did not, in fact, it was the other way around. He enjoyed my company, but I am not entirely sure if his affection for me was romantic. What I am trying to say is, I don’t want the same mistake to happen again.”

“So, you’ve experienced this before?”

“Yes… and no.” She relaxed her hands over her lap, and let it drop down to the sides of her bed in a carefree manner.

“And what exactly is different about this one?”

“I know you see me in a romantic light, sir.”

“Ah,” I exclaimed, and felt suddenly exposed at that moment. She surprisingly shifted her weight towards me, turning the whole of her gaze in my direction. “But I am not sure if I feel the same way, and even if I did, it could never be tolerated.”

“Because you are my slave.”

“And you are white, sir.”

“Yes, I am. Aren’t I?”

“I know I cannot leave unless you send me away, so please do so, sir.”

“What if I want you to stay here with me?”

“Please, don’t.”

“Beg all you want, but you’re staying,” I decided aloud. “Now, enough of hiding in your room. I am absolutely famished, and I know for a fact that you haven’t even started dinner.”

“You will not let me leave?”

“No, Burnham, I won’t.” I took a hold of her hand and pulled it upwards, directing her to get off her feet. “I won’t let you.” She stood close to my chest, her eyes pointed downwards to the blue waistcoat that was just in front of her. “You _belong_ to me now.”

“One day you will set me free.”

“No, Burnham, I won’t.”

* * *

Snow was pelting just outside the backdoor window, I was currently logging unused furniture there, hoping to block out the exit way for good. _Let’s see her get another bright idea on trying to escape._ I had already confiscated all her belongings and stored it away in a locked cupboard in my office room.

My actions must have been perceived as madness, but I knew there was no way I would let her out of my sight. Feeling exhausted, I trudged up the small steps and entered the main hallway where I could hear her working away inside of the kitchen. It was nice to hear some life in this house, so very different from the cheerless solitude I had encounter over the past month. My feet found a way to the kitchen once again, and I leaned against the open doorway to watch her. She was stirring around some sort of pasta, and when I drew closer, I saw she had added our left-over chicken inside of it. “Its almost done,” she informed me, since she could decipher my unuttered thoughts.

“Good, cause I’m starving.”

“What were you doing in the servant’s quarter?”

“Making sure you had no way of escaping,” I said from the corner of my mouth.

“Even if I did, I wouldn’t get far. I haven’t a penny to my name.”

“But you had a plan, I know it. Were you planning to go back to your former master?”

“Captain Pike would not take me back,” she sullenly relayed, and it was only then, did I realize the girl must have had feelings for him. _No wonder she cried the first night,_ I realized, and then immediately felt a pang of jealousy.

“Well, he would be a fool to refuse. My home will _always_ be open to you.”

Her eyes darted to the right, examining my facial expressions to make sure my words were true. She left the spoon in the pot, and then turned her entire body to face me. “Then why would you block me in?”

“Because I don’t trust you,” I rapped out. “And I feel you have a plan, even though you pretend not to have one.”

“I have no plan,” she lied, and was about to reach over for her spoon when I caught her wrist. She stepped backwards and I quickly followed her; I reared her hand closer to me, maneuvering her in such a way that she had her back slammed into the countertop. She looked so timid, her eyes fluttering nervously as I took her in with my wandering eyes.

“Don’t lie to me.”

“What are you going to do?” she asked, after I had leaned into her space completely with both of my hands arresting her wrists.

“I don’t know, Burnham, what will you have me do?”

“I’d have you release me,” she almost choked. _No, her eyes say a different tale._ I leaned my head forward, letting my lips hover her own in heightened suspense. _She does not fight back,_ I contemplated, _maybe I was right after all_. “I am not that kind of women,” she pleaded, before I planted my lips over her own. I kissed her lips with delight, savouring the sweet flavour and the plumpness to her lips as I dug in for more. Burnham’s lips barely moved against mine, but I noticed the lifelessness to her hands that were once eager to push me away. I dropped my grip over her wrists and let one hand stray upwards to drag my fingers upwards through her tightly curled hair. _She tastes delicious_ , I thought, and leaned my chest harder against her own as I went in for more. My left hand slid over her waist and then laid flatly against her small back, fingertips curling inwards to dig itself into her flesh.

“Burnham,” I whispered in a husky voice, once I parted our lips for a moment. I couldn’t take my eyes off her, I was so captivated by the beauty shone in the depth of her chestnut brown eyes. “Burnham,” I repeated, as I wrapped my strong arm around her more.

She dipped her head low and laid it against my chest without a single word escaping her lips. _She’s all mine, whether she wants it or not._

“Sir,” she pleaded into the smooth fabric of my waistcoat. I rubbed my hand over the length of her back, soothing her out into a tolerable state. _I have her and will hold her for as long as I can._ “I cannot give you what you desire. You cannot love me.”

“Love, Burnham?” I asked of her, and felt it was far too soon to even consider that notion.

“It is wrong on so many accounts. Please, just let me be.”

“No,” I droned, and let my hand trail up the last of her back till it could rest over the back of her nape. “No, Burnham.”

She made a soft moaning sound when I placed my lips over hers again, nipping it softly in a teasing gesture to stir some arousal in her, if nothing else. I leaned against her body heavily, knowing it was only a matter of time before her body responded. _I know she wants it, but she is so determined to fight it back._ “Gabe,” she confessed, after I kissed along her sculpted neck, while I let the tips of my fingers follow that same pathway. The utterance of my name was enough for me to continue this venture, clearly aware of how much my eyes had darkened once I was determined to take this prize. My lips found hers, stretching out our kisses slowly now that she was starting to respond. _I knew it._ Burnham’s hands wandered away from her sides and pressed one hand against my chest with her nails gripping roughly at the fabric. _She’s pulling me in,_ I realized, and fell heavily over her with the soft thud of her back knocking against the countertop for good. Her other hand smoothed over the side of my arm, pressing down on the firm muscles that were bulging out of my shirt. _So, she is attracted to me after all._

The feel of my arm gave her some encouragement, and soon she was kissing me on her own accord; it was at this point that I stopped her by moving my head away. She followed me quickly, so I had to tilt my face for her lips to land on my cheek. “Gabriel, what’s wrong?”

“Too fast,” I hushed, as she continued to kiss at the side of my cheek.

She slowed down her efforts, but even still her hand was gripping tightly on the side of my arm. “You’re stopping?”

“For our own good,” I assured her, and did my best to untangle myself from her arms. “Burnham, you must stop now.”

“Why?” Her hand was quick to grab a hold of me again, an untold fire was seen in the depth of her eyes. “You started it, and now you want to stop.”

“Because we’ll take it too far,” I remonstrated. “Burnham, stop.”

Her hands fell back to her side reluctantly, and she almost sulked as she turned away to retrieve the spoon that she was formerly stirring around the pot. It was more of a stabbing effort, rather than stirring our dinner around.

“You do understand what I am implying, don’t you?”

“That if we keep it up, I’ll let you bed me.”

“Exactly.”

“All the more reason you should send me away then.”

“No, I won’t let it come to that.” I walked over to the corner of the room and found a clean glass for me to have some sort of refreshments. Fortunately, the wine bottle was still there from last night, so I poured an ample amount into the cup.

She picked up a towel off the countertop, and idly wiped her hands across it in frustration. _Well, at least she isn’t shy anymore._

“I never said it would,” she suddenly shot back, knowing this conversation was beyond the customary conversation between a slave owner and their slave. _But, hadn’t I crossed the boundary line long ago?_

“But it could come to that,” I mused aloud. “Which is why we have to be careful.”

“And why you should send me away,” she repeated, with an open display of emotion. “For I will not become your mistress.”

_There she said it, I knew she had felt this way all along._

“Burnham if I wanted to sleep with someone, I would have hired a prostitute.”

“Then maybe you should,” she unaccountably argued back.

I lowered my untouched glass of wine down on the table and shot back, “That’s enough, Burnham!” She bit her lip at me, clearly aggravated at the idea that she must obey. “I’ll have no such talk from you.”

“And yet, you kiss me on the lips.”

“A kiss, that is all.”

“Have you ever kissed your slaves before?”

“No, I have not,” I droned out in a warning tone of voice.

“But you kiss me?”

I walked towards her with both hands outstretched towards her as I argued back, “Yes, I just kissed you.” I brought her into my arms and slammed the side of my face into the right side of her cheek. I kissed her soft skin fervently, trying to get it all out of my system as fast as I could. “And I’ll keep kissing you until you like it.”

She turned her head abruptly in my direction and crushed her lips against mine. I believe we both lost our heads at that moment, for I was steering her towards a darkened corner with my hands firmly pressed on either side of her waist. “Michael,” I groaned in a low raspy voice, once my hands slid down her waist to pierce itself around her hips. “Have you ever been touched this way before?”

She groaned into mouth, while she pressed herself harder against my form. She wanted me now, I was almost sure of it. Feeling daring, I slipped my hand down her long dress and began to bunch it up in messy folds till one side of her leg was exposed. The sight of stockings made my lips depart from hers, and I couldn’t help but frown at the sight. “What is it?”

“I was hoping for skin,” I teased, and then dropped the dress back down in its proper place before I let my lips fall over hers. She kissed me opened mouth, ungraceful and unlearned, but I knew in time she would kiss me with such ease I would instantly fall apart.

It was amazing how much her hands flew over my frame, pressing against my bulging chest, feeling my large rounded shoulders, hammering itself against the center of my back as she leaned into me for more kisses. She was surprisingly affectionate, her eyes turning into happy slits as she squinted up at me. A broad smile came across her face as she let her heels fall back on the ground, for my Michael was pleasantly surprised when I kissed the tip of her nose dutifully. She giggled suddenly, looking almost like a girl her age as I wrapped my arm around her and led her back to the piping hot pasta that was bubbling in the pot. “Shall we have dinner?” she asked cheerfully; I was so enamored to see such a large smile travel across her face. “And there is some pie left over for dessert.”

“Wonderful.”

“You will have to let me go, otherwise we’ll never eat.”

I kissed the side of her cheek, and then moved my way to the open doorway; my shoulder leaned against the wooden surface and I crossed my arms as I took my time watching her. “Thank you, Burnham.”

“For what?”

“For staying,” I told her, and then rolled off the doorway to exit the room entirely. There was dinner to be had, and after that a few more hours to enjoy her precious company, and I looked forward to that most of all.

* * *

I had made it a point to rearrange my dining room table, propping Michael’s chair close to my own. No longer was I at the head of the table, I had pushed it to the side and had Michael sit opposite me so that she was within my arm’s reach. She was just walking in when I was dragging over her plate, and she nearly dropped the plate of food once she took in the unusual setting. “I want you as close to me as possible,” I informed her in a clear tone of voice. She laid the tray down at the edge of the table, and then removed her apron to fold it nicely on an empty chair that was seldom used. Burnham smoothed out her plain black uniform in front of me, smiling prettily once I caught her eye. “You look beautiful,” I assured her, though I wasn’t entirely sure where those words had come from. My steps quickly led to her, my arms wrapped around her solid back to bring her in for one last kiss.

She kissed my lips with delight, nearly giggling like a little girl once I nipped the corner of her ear with my teeth. “Sir,” she laughed, and tried to use her hands to push me away. “The food will get cold.”

“Hmmm,” I mumbled low into her ear, and made sure to kiss the side of her temple before I departed for good. “Have a seat, Burnham.”

Instantly we returned to our customary stations, and this tall, finely shaped woman was keen to obey my every command. It was my turn to dish out our food, a thing that made her blush profusely (Or I believe so, since she covered her cheeks with the flat palms of her hands). “Sir, you mustn’t…”

“Too late, Burnham. Eat up!” I dropped the spoon back into the ceramic bowl, and then returned to my own seat liking how close I was to her. In the past we sat at this table as strangers, but now I had found we could talk to each other openly as friends- maybe even something more.

A sense of melancholy came over me when the grandfather clock struck nine, a grave reminder of how late it was as we continued to sit at the dining table enjoying a free-flowing conversation. “Has it really been two hours?” I asked aloud and pulled out my pocket watch to confirm it. “Time to get to bed.”

“I didn’t finish the dishes.”

“It can wait till tomorrow.”

“But I am not tired, Gabriel.” I still couldn’t get over how easily my name sounded on her lips and stretched out my hand to stroke the side of her knuckles affectionately. “I can wash up.”

“If you insist.”

“Its alright, I know how to find my way upstairs,” she teased, and then let her hand slip away from me as she rose herself up from her seat. “Thank you, Gabe.”

“For what?”

“Everything,” she simply said, and then departed from the dining room with a long look over her shoulder to look at me one last time. I smiled deeply as she left and couldn’t help but feel my eyelids blink with pure contentment with the knowledge that she somehow felt the same way. This wasn’t supposed to happen, but it did, and I was eternally grateful for it. Abandoning my seat, I made sure the fire was properly put out, and then leaned over the mantel to acquire my evening smoke for me to enjoy at leisure. Standing perfectly still, I could feel the low fluttering at the bottom of my stomach, showing how truly happy I was to obtain her affection.

I was stepping on tricky water though; it would have been easier for the both of us, if we were of the same colour of skin. I knew that even if she was a _free_ slave, there would still be a great deal of difficulty in maintaining a romantic relationship with one another. _Perhaps Burnham was right to have her reservation after all._

My mind battled with my heart, and soon enough I found myself pacing before the empty fire as I considered the matter fully. _Damn the laws,_ I decided, and made my way over to the kitchen to seek out her company again.

Burnham was drying off the plates when she heard my footsteps and offered me a small smile in greeting. “I was wondering when you were going to come.”

“I was giving you some space.”

“Oh, that’s a first.” It was still strange for Burnham to have a tongue, but perhaps she was starting to feel comfortable around me after all. “I’m almost done.”

I leaned against the countertop with my pipe in hand, staring off at the wall in front of me with blissful serenity. “Are you worried?”

“About?”

“Us?”

“I am not sure,” she deliberated aloud. “I still think you should let me go.”

“So, we both don’t get hurt.”

“ _Oui_ ,” she answered me in French with a playful smile at the end of it.

I scratched the back of my head wearily. “I’d be more hurt if I let you leave me.”

“You know this will not end well. You forget-”

“- I haven’t forgotten.”

“You wish me to live with you,” she mentioned softly. “Like a wife lives with her husband, but it cannot be.”

“You will be my servant and that is all,” I merely stated, after I inhaled the last of my pipe.

“It will not be all,” she stated in a leveled tone of voice, and set the last plate down to show she was quite finished. “And you know that, as well as I.”

“Burnham, you’re wrong.”

“Am I?” She walked past me, flinging her apron off her the back of her shoulders and neck in a hurried fashion. I abandoned my snuffed out pipe on the kitchen countertop and quickly followed her footsteps, knowing she was leading me up the stairs to our bedrooms. _She thinks she is proving a point, but she’s wrong._ Upon reaching the landing, Burnham leaned her back against my bedroom door and offered me a sultry look that left me suddenly frozen on the spot. “Tell me that I am wrong. You don’t want me.”

“I don’t,” I lied.

“Tell me after months of living together that you won’t suddenly change your mind.”

“I won’t.”

“You are a man of honour, General Lorca, but you are still a _man._ ”

“Burnham.” I licked the top of my lips, knowing she could see the confliction betrayed by that subtle movement of my tongue.

“Let me go, sir.”

“I can’t,” I breathed out in a husky voice. “I won’t.”

“Then you condemn me, as well as yourself. You know you cannot marry me.”

“Yes, but-”

“-and even if you could, think of what would happen to your reputation! Our lives would be in danger day and night, all because you can’t find it in your will to let me go.”

“Burnham.”

“Please, sir.”

“No,” I bellowed out, and pressed her hard against my door to kiss her on the lips. My hand fondled the doorknob beside her, and I quickly led her into the room with my hands tightly grasping the sides of my arms.

“See!” she exclaimed. “You can’t even last a single day.”

Burnham was standing in the center of my room, only steps away from my empty bed. I had my hands all over her, kissing her face and lips with such carnal desire I didn’t even know what was coming over me. _I won’t give in,_ I told myself, and simply allowed the temptation to wait there, perched just before my bed as I devoured her greedily with my kisses. The poor woman couldn’t even fight back, shuddering once I used my top set of teeth to pierce her bottom lip. I jabbed my tongue into her suddenly, dominating her mouth with my own tongue as I went searching for her own. She wiggled under my arms, caught off guard by this strange, yet exhilarating action. _I want her._ My hand wandered down the side of her hip, until I could rest my hand over her perfect buttocks. My fingers flexed inwardly, curling over her rounded surface to hear her moan into the center of my mouth. _You would never know it’s a Sunday._

“Gabe,” she panted, and did her best to tilt her face away so I couldn’t reach her lips. “Let me go.”

“You are enjoying it.”

“Too much,” she nearly breathed, and then patted on the center of my chest for me to release her. “Let me go to my room.”

“One last kiss,” I cleverly replied, and waited for her to tilt her head in my direction so I could ravish her lips one final time. “Go.”

She sprung out of my arms and darted towards the door; my only comfort was there was an obvious display that she couldn’t walk in her normal fashion. _Good,_ I thought with a devious smirk, and secretly hoped the throbbing between her legs wouldn’t go away anytime soon.

 


	6. Happiness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel knows he is going crazy over Michael Burnham, he can only hope the feeling is mutual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes! I finished it just in time for Black History Month :)
> 
> It's a short chapter, but I hope you enjoy it. Thanks for giving it a read!
> 
> petyrbaaaeeelish

My collar was popped up as I trudged through the endless snow; it was ankle high and next to impossible to walk through. I leaped over to the sidewalk, avoiding an oncoming horse and carriage that was plowing its way through the winter storm. Leather gloves tucked deep into my coat pocket, I turned my back to the wind and began to backpedal down the empty sidewalk, wondering what the hell convinced me to go outside of the house in the first place.

_Burnham._

If my eyes weren’t so cold, I might have rolled them. As it is, I shut them slightly closed, only to see the swirling snowflakes descending from the pale white sky. _I’m growing tired of winter._

I looked over my shoulder occasionally, making sure I wouldn’t run into any obstacles, and was thankful when I eventually went over to a street corner where I could cross the street to get to the bakery. Parcelle’s Bakery would be skipped today, I had other plans.

It wasn’t any chocolate pistachio cookies, but it might suit her taste. Seeing the café across the street, I hopped large steps across the snow until I managed to cross the street to get to the other side. People were already piling in through the entrance-way, telling me that I was not the first one to venture outside on a cold Monday morning. A bell rung over the door as I swung it open, and I was instantly queued into a line to order breakfast. Shivering from the lingering cold, I tore off my large brimmed cap and tapped the snow from atop of it. It fell over my boots and covered the already sopping wet floor. I felt no remorse when I dragged my snowy boots over a rugged mat, and then having my wits together I squinted at the menu. _Oh, of course I can’t see it._ I rolled my eyes for the second time today, annoyed that the narrow café had to be so brightly lit.

With nothing else to do but think, I found myself regretting not speaking to Burnham this morning. I knew she would be looking for me by now, wondering when I managed to sneak out the house. _I just needed time to think,_ I reflected. _Too come to terms with everything that happened so far._

Michael Burnham was right, I did _want_ her. The mere fact that I had trouble sleeping last night proved that; I spent most of it sitting on the edge of my bed wondering if she was going to come back, and when she didn’t the other half was staring out my open glass window wondering what the hell was wrong with me. _I’m an idiot, that’s what I am._

_I’m obsessed._

_No, I’m infatuated with her._

_I’m like a stupid love-sick puppy._ I shook my head adamantly, distressed that a forty-nine-year-old should come to this pitiful state.

_It’s not love, is it?_

The line took a step forward, so I quickly followed it. There were at least eight people still in front of me, and the fact that everything was freshly made to order only meant the wait would be even longer.

_I need coffee._

My gloves were removed and stuffed into my coat pocket. It would be a while till I could move them freely again, it felt so stiff from the awful cold outside. I would have to go shopping for Burnham today, it was clear her jacket and gloves were not suited to this weather. I felt a blush tinge the side of my cheeks and it was not from the cold. _Will it give her the wrong impression?_

_Knowing Burnham, she would take it the wrong way._

I almost laughed aloud but managed to catch myself in time. The last thing I needed was for the people in line to think I was insane. There were four more people ahead of me, and soon it would be my turn. I already knew what I would purchase- crêpes. I could almost feel my mouth watering at the scent of freshly made coffee and bacon sticking to the air of the narrow café. _I only hope she likes it._

I was worried about what I was becoming, this person who was no longer in control of their emotions- or their mind for that matter. I had felt this way before, of course, but it felt like a lifetime ago. _And I was unlucky in love,_ I remembered, and found my teeth grinding against one another in bitterness.

“ _Suivant!_ ”

I glanced upwards to see that I was next in line, and then pulled out the heavy coinage from my coat pocket as I made the order. _Duex,_ still sounded foreign to my tongue, but it felt right.

Twenty minutes later, I was rushing out of the store with my hands full of two boxes of sweet crepes and enough bacon to satisfy a man’s tastes. The wind didn’t bother me this time, not even the endless snow, no- I felt like I was on top of the world. _The thought of her did that to me,_ I realized, and felt a bit of shame because of it.

 _Yes, a love-sick puppy might be an apt description,_ I noted, and couldn’t help but smile at the thought of it.

* * *

“Burnham!” I called out, the minute I opened my front door. “Burnham!”

She ran into the drawing room, worried why I would call her name like that.

“Burnham,” I repeated for the third time, but my voice was softer this time. “Take this.”

“What is it?” She blinked at me with curiosity, examining the two large boxes covered in something like a wrap to keep the food warm.

“Our breakfast.”

“Oh, I made breakfast.”

“Well, we will have two breakfast’s,” I teased, and hesitated for a moment since I felt the impulse to kiss her. “Go set in on _our_ dining table.”

I watched her go with a lustful eye, taking in the way her hips swayed as she stepped out of the drawing room. _I really need to control myself._

Off went my hat, and I tossed my brown scarf over the coat rack with a careless air. Leather gloves were stuffed into my coat pocket, and then I blew hot air into the center of my hands to get back some warmth back. Burnham stepped into the room suddenly, looking slightly nervous under my lecherous glare. “Good morning, sir.”

“Come on, Burnham, I think we’re past that.”

She lowered her head shyly with a secret smile.

“How are you this morning?”

Burnham wore a bright smile and lifted her head in my direction. “ _Je vais bien,_ ” she answered me in French, and then took a few step forwards with her hands out in the air. “Let me help you,” she insisted, and went behind me to pull down the rest of my heavy cloak. I turned to her, seeing her hold up my long black coat as a shield. _She knows what I’m thinking without me ever having to open my mouth._

“I’m happy to hear that.”

“And you?” I watched her shake out my jacket to get the remaining snow to fall on the floor. She went on her tippy-toes to place my jacket on the hook, wearing plush white slippers that contrasted well off her dark skin. “Gabriel?”

“Oh, I am well. Very hungry, though.”

“Thank you for the breakfast,” she sweetly replied, and then took careful steps back to give us some space. “I’ll go start the kettle for tea.”

“Do you need help?”

“I will be fine.”

“Then I’ll change into more comfortable clothes,” I told her, and we both parted our separate ways. I leaned heavily on the bannister as I walked up the stairs, smiling to myself as I remembered her look. _She thought she could hide it so well, but she was wrong._ I looked over my shoulder to see the morning light coming in through the kitchen window. That sight alone made me hurry upstairs to change, making sure I would wear something soft enough for her to want to touch. _I really am going mad._

A few minutes passed and I threw on a wool jumper in a dark shade of blue. I looked in the mirror briefly, liking what I saw before I swung open the door and nearly hopped down the staircase. “Burnham!” I said with excitement, as I let my hands outstretch on either side of the door. She stood in the center of the kitchen with her eyes intently staring at the kettle, but once she heard my voice, she glanced upwards with a lazy smile. “Burnham.”

“Yes, Gabriel.”

I wasn’t sure what I wanted to say to her, so I took large steps into the kitchen until I stood right in front of her. “How are you really, Burnham?”

She smiled at me with a look that showed she was about to laugh. “I am well, si-Gabe.”

“You still can’t get that word out of your vocabulary?”

“It is a habit.”

“Then break it,” I warned in a steely voice. She began to laugh at that, and used her hands to cover her mouth guilty. “Or should I start calling you ma’am.”

“You couldn’t do that!”

“Mademoiselle.”

“What?” she exclaimed into the palm of her hand.

“Mademoiselle Burnham.” She laughed even harder, and I mistakenly placed my hands on either sides of her arms to steady her. “Will that suit you?”

“No.”

“Then stop calling me _sir,_ ” I drawled out in warning, and then bit down on my bottom lip as I fought back the will to kiss her.

“I have eggs ready. It will go well with the food you brought for us.”

“Do you like crêpes?”

“ _Oui,_ ” she answered me with overly puckered lips.

“Then I win your approval?”

“ _Oui._ ”

I swayed her body from side to side intentionally, wanting her to give into my whims. _I want to kiss her so badly._

“Burnham you better distract me,” I warned with my voice coming from the very back of my throat.

“From what?”

I let my eyes fall downwards to her luscious lips. “I’ll let you take a guess.”

“Gabe,” she warned, once she finally understood my meaning.

“I know, I know.”

She appeared to be torn, but luckily for her the water began to boil loudly, so she had to turn her attention to that. I watched her pour the hot water into the teapot, feeling a sense of melancholy that I was so close, yet so far.

“We can go back into the dining room now,” she suggested, with a tray full of the tea cups and the teapot in the very center. “Everything is ready.”

I nodded my head stiffly, and then let her pass me to get outside of the kitchen. I closely followed her steps, half smiling as I stared at this beautiful woman. I was bewitched, like a man that lost all sense, and when she placed our things down on the table with delicate-like hands I found myself stretching forward to grasp one of her hands in my own. “Gabriel?”

“Burnham, let me do it.”

“It’s fine,” she stammered out nervously, caught off guard by the tenderness in my eyes. “Gabe?”

I pulled her hand closer to my body, and then stood up tall so I could tower over her form. _She is absolutely intoxicating._

“Gabe?” she asked in a small voice, finding a change in my eyes that matched my current mood.

“I’ll do it,” I told her, and then suddenly released her hand so she could take a seat. She visibly hesitated, uncertain if I would suddenly change my mind. Burnham looked slightly distressed, realizing she was engaging in a war where she would ultimately have to surrender. _If we both want it, where is the sense in fighting it back?_

I dished out the food, making sure my eyes never left her face. She took a sip of her tea nervously, still finding the fact that her master was serving her unwelcoming. _Give it time,_ I told myself, and knew habit would be my greatest friend in this case. “Is it fine?” I asked, after I placed an extra strip of bacon on her plate.

“It’s wonderful.”

“Then its time to eat.”

Burnham said a quick morning prayer over our food, proving to me that she had a protestant education after all. I then bit into my crêpe, chewing on the soft apple and cinnamon flavoured dessert that was much to sweet for early morning breakfast. Burnham had enough sense to add in eggs and grilled mushroom and onions to add some spice to my breakfast. I ate the food heartedly, pleased to have her as my silent companion on a peaceful Monday morning. “Do you like it?” I inquired, knowing I ordered a chocolate, banana and strawberry crêpe for her own sweet tooth.

“It’s delicious.”

“Hard to come by for obvious reasons.”

“I hope you didn’t have to pay too much.”

“I can take care of it,” I assured her. “You have to give me your coat after breakfast, so I can look at the size. I want to go shopping for you.”

“Oh, Gabe,” she begged, but I wouldn’t hear of it. “It isn’t necessary,” she argued back, after I had expressed my wish to purchase one for her anyways.

“Nonsense. We are not arguing about this.”

She lowered her fork across the plate, knowing she was fighting another losing battle. “Thank you.”

“You are most welcome, Michael,” I teased, over the rim of my tea cup. “And you will tell me if you like it.”

“Please don’t make it expensive.”

“It won’t be.”

She smiled at that fact, pleased that she wouldn’t be spoiled after all. It would not bode well to have her wear so fine a coat outside, it would make people ask questions…

I prodded my fork into the soft eggs, wondering if this was such a good idea after all. Everyone knew everyone’s business where I lived, and it was only a matter of time before people figured out that something was a little off with me. _They can go to hell,_ I decided, and then scooped up the scrambled eggs to plop it into my mouth. “You’ll have to give me your dress size too.”

“Why?”

“I grow tired of seeing you in black,” I said as an excuse.

“You’d rather me in red.”

“No,” I spat out, but then I turned my head to the closed drapes as I considered the matter. “Just something different.”

She bit down on her lip, clearly wanting to hold back her tongue.

“It will be modest, Burnham, you don’t have to worry.”

“What do you get in return?” she slyly asked, knowing what kind of game I was playing.

“Something pleasant for the eyes,” I simply answered her, and then raised my cup in good humour as I took in her look of skepticism.

* * *

It was well over an hour by the time I returned to the house, completely exhausted after shoveling off both walkways. _There is my exercise for the day,_ I thought, after I pulled off my hat and tossed it over the wooden hook. Burnham had not heard me entering the house yet, so I had a few peaceful moments to myself. The snow was relentless, forcing me to put aside my shopping until more important matters were dealt with. _I will have to pick up some groceries too,_ I noted, and wished I could simply stay in the house and sit by the fire for an hour or two.

My outer clothes were soon removed, and I was peeling off my wool sweater as I walked down the silent halls. I was sweating like a pig and found most of my inner clothes were damp and sticking to my skin in a most intolerable manner. I pulled off another shirt as well, until I was basically in a thin white shirt that some would be considered underclothes. “Burnham!” I called out and was meet with no answer. _Surely, she is home._

“Burnham!” I peaked my head into the kitchen and found the area completely spotless. _Where did she go?_

I was just coming out of the kitchen when I saw her walking down the hallway with something hidden behind her back. “Why didn’t you answer me?”

“I didn’t hear you.”

“Where were you?”

“In the servant’s hall.”

“That area is completely blocked off.” Her face was impassive, almost immovable under my intense glare. “You weren’t thinking of escaping, were you?”

“If I did, I’d fear you’d lose your mind.” I was taken back by her answer, surprised she had the guts to even speak to me that way. _My things have changed in the last twenty-four hours._ “I was just cleaning up the area.”

“There is nothing to clean.”

She raised an eyebrow at me, clearly disagreeing with my statement.

“Michael,” I said in a low tenor. “I’m not sure I like you this way.”

“In what way, _sir?_ ”

“Ah.” She smirked at me unexpectedly, and then her best not to stare too hard at my body that was fully revealed by the thinly damp shirt. “You having a tongue.”

“I always had a tongue, _sir._ ”

“Yes, but you use it to…” I was at a loss of words, not entirely sure how to describe her behaviour. “…freely.”

“Then I apologize, _sir,_ ” she mockingly said, with a cunning look around her eyes.

“Yes, yes,” I said in a droll sort of voice. “I get your point.”

She raised her eyebrows at me for the second time this afternoon, and then crossed her arms for extra measure.

“I can’t have one without the other,” I mused aloud, and then took a step forward to encroach upon her space. “I understand what you are trying to say.”

“Oh, you do,” she said with a sly little smile.

“Master and servant.” I tried my best not to roll my eyes at her. “And then _me_ wanting more than that.”

“And?”

“I can’t go back and forth.”

“No, you can’t.”

“Burnham.”

“Yes.”

“You are too clever for your own good.” She uncrossed her arms after my statement, apparently pleased by my statement. The thing she was hiding earlier was a book, and the front cover was familiar enough for me to recognize it at an instant. _So, she found it after all,_ I contemplated, as she continued to smile at my unintentional compliment.

“Thank you, Gabriel.”

“Oh, so you do know the right name to use?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Where is the line?”

“The line?” I asked with confusion.

“How am I supposed to behave? What am I to you now?”

“Oh,” I mouthed with understanding. “Well…”

“I feel like you want something more, but I can’t give it to you. Not really…” She dropped her gaze to the front cover of the book, staring at it with disinterest. “You say I speak too freely, when I am only being myself. Would you rather I go back to the way I was?”

“No, I…”

“Please, tell me.”

“I guess…” I licked at my lips feebly, feeling at loss at what to say to her. “I’m not used to it.”

“Me having a personality,” she joked with innocence about her. _No, she is right,_ I recognized, I wanted her to come out of her shell and now she finally has. “I know we are not equals; we never can be…”

“And why not?”

“You know why,” she sullenly answered me.

I answered her by taking the book from her hand and jabbing it underneath my arm-pit to get her whole attention. She was caught off-guard when I leaned in to kiss her, bracing my hand around the side of her cheek to steady her. Her lips were immovable against mine at first, but soon I felt her body react, and then she leaned into my chest as she kissed me back. _There she is,_ I thought, and let the book slip from under my arm and crash to the floor. I kissed her harder, smoothing my hand across the last of her cheek to rest at the back of her head. She tasted so delicious and I feared I could never get enough of her. “You still think so,” I asked in a husky voice, and then placed my lips over hers before she could answer. _Forget what everyone thinks, I want this girl._

“I don’t know what to think,” she unexpectedly answered back.

“That’s my girl,” I growled in a deep voice, and then lifted her in the air slightly as I kissed her harder. She wrapped her arms around me, clinging onto me for dear life as her feet left the floor. We were getting lost in the moment, and I found myself steering her into a wall where I crashed her flatly against the surface. I shouldn’t have done it, but my hands slid down her sides until I could cup her ass, and then I kept it there. “Burnham,” I growled against her cheek like an animal, and lathered wet kisses there with a sense of urgency. Sooner or later she would make me stop, so I was going to test the waters to see how far she would let me go.

“Gabe,” she breathed out with ecstasy, her voice so thin I could tell I was affecting her. Her fingers stroked my short hair upwards at my nape, before switching to go carving down the back of my neck and spreading over the width of my broad shoulders. The mere fact that she was touching me this way was making me lose control, and I planted my lips over hers till she started to moan into my mouth with desire. _I’m going too far,_ a small voice said at the back of my head, and for once in my life I listened to it.

I settled her down to the floor, though I kept my lips on the side of her face while I smoothed my hands over the whole of her back. “I hope I changed your mind.”

“For now,” she said in an unsteady voice. “But everything changes once we go outside those doors.”

“Then we stay here,” I breathed, while I kept my mouth over the side of her face. “This will be our little paradise.”

“Paradise,” she said with skepticism, and then raised her hands to the side of my face to draw it backwards. “One can only dream of it.”

“Our place of happiness,” I insisted. “Just you and I.”

She smoothed her thumbs over my cheeks, investigating my dirty blonde sideburns that lowered itself over the sides of my face. Her dark brown eyes brightened with pleasure, as she was slowly being seduced by the prospect.

“No one will ever know,” I assured her. “You won’t have to worry about anything.”

“We cannot hide from the reality of what we really are,” she sensibly replied. “A black woman being with a white man. A slave falling in love with her master.”

“So, you are falling in love?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged her shoulders lightly at me. “If you keep looking at me like that, I will.”

I chuckled lightly before I endowed her with a kiss, stretching it out until she submitted to my whims. _I’m going crazy for her,_ I realized, and knew for a fact I wasn’t going out of this house anytime soon.

 


	7. Suspicion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel goes out the house to perform some errands, and the people he encounters throughout the day notice something is a little off about him. His silent air gives rise to suspicion, and it is only a matter of time till the people around him start to put the pieces together. The only question is, what will happen when they do?

After a never-ending battle, Burnham’s head was finally resting over my chest. I had one hand stroking the depth of her curly hair as I felt her breath brush through the thinness of my shirt. A candle was resting nearby us, casting a warm orange glow over our skin. I felt her readjust herself over me, letting her hands rest over the side of the couch as she continued to listen to my soft murmurings. The book I had dropped on the floor over an hour ago, was now placed steadily between my large hands. Burnham had confessed the reading difficult, and her still learning to read the English language made it even more of a challenge. Casting responsibility aside I had offered to read it to her, but I had never imagined winning such endeavors to have her nearly on top of me.

A strong resolution was the only thing that prevented my body from reacting to the weight of her body, the warmth from her occasional touch. Harris’ _Astronomical Dialogues Between a Gentleman and a Lady_ was ill-fitted to Burnham I had found, the way woman were described as ignorant beings did not suit her well. The woman that laid her head upon my chest was incredibly smart, sharp, and highly observant, so to see the woman in the text so very ignorant of the world gave her more pain than pleasure. Still, she pursued me to read a little while longer, asking the occasional questions to stir up conversations.

“And don’t desire and neglect me because I am a _Woman,_ ” I read aloud. “I have heard you sometimes say, you thought that there was no difference of Sexes in Souls; nay, that _our_ Parts and natural Capacities were often _equal_ , at least, if not superior, to those of Men.”

“Do you believe that?”

“Believe what?” I droned in a soft voice, finding the warmth of her body and the abiding heat from the fireplace was making me sleepy.

“That men and woman are equal.”

“No.”

She pouted slightly, I could see the corner of her mouth turn downwards. “But you do?”

“I think there is more to us than you men realize.”

I laid the back of my head against the pillow behind me. “Well, yes your sex is always full of surprises.”

“I wasn’t speaking of surprises,” she quipped. “I only meant that if I had the same level of education and opportunity as yourself, then I might not find myself in this position.”

“That of a slave.”

“Yes,” she stated with a wave of feeling.

I sniffled softly, and then let out a long yawn to show I truly tired I was at that moment. “You may have a point.”

“May?”

“You have a point,” I conceded. “But equality is something I’m not sure I would like. A man should be a ruler of all things. To care for the women in their household… to be their protector.”

“And all of that will not deter our certain level of equality,” she stated firmly. “Yes, you may be our protectors, but do we not protect you in our own ways? Do we not shelter you? Keep you safe and warm. Feed you, care for you when you are unwell.”

“All duties of your fair sex.”

“And all that you men are equally capable of, if you so chose too.” Burnham was determined to win this battle, it was something she held very dear to her, something I liked very much about her. I laid the book flat against the top of my chest, just inches of where her face was. She couldn’t see my face, and neither could I, so when she plucked the book off my chest and let her eyes glaze over the pages, I was fully enamoured. “Do you agree with me now?”

“To a certain degree,” I stubbornly replied. “But to say that men and woman are equal is a dangerous thing.”

“It is just like you to say that,” she fought back in respite.

“And just like you to advocate for equality between our two sexes.”

She smiled up at me, eyes crinkling around the edges with pleasure. She was truly beautiful, I was never surer of that fact. I let my fingers roam through her hair again, desiring to touch her body with a new fever. We had agreed this would be our own little paradise, and for now it suited the both of us well. Michael desired me, just as much as I desired her, but where the lines were drawn out was still a mystery to me. “Will you read some more to me?”

“But,” I began. “Perhaps there were some particular reasons for your saying so then, which now altering or ceasing, your Judgement and Opinion may have done so too.” Michael let her fingers rub the top of my chest, feeling the chiseled part that pierced out of my thin white shirt. Her lips were slightly open, marveling at the strength of my body even when I was in a relaxed position. “I was going to assure her, that I was still of the same Sentiments, when putting on a forbidding look, with a furious-”

“What does _furious_ mean?”

“Angry.”

“Oh?” she mouthed. “If he agreed with her, then why would he be angry?”

“Well, if you let me finish the sentence…”

“Yes, right,” she sheepishly replied.

I cleared my throat and continued, “Furious countenance, preceded thus: Madam, said I, you will give me a new life to value any thing that I understand; if I can render it acceptable to you.”

“Would you do that for me? Help me understand the ways of the world, astronomy, the laws of nature?”

“Yes, Michael,” I hushed in barely a breath.

“You will be my _prof?_ ”

“Yes, I will be your teacher.”

Her fingers dug into my chest at this point, her eyes shining with excitement. “ _Peux-tu me procurer des livres en français-_ ”

“-English, Burnham.”

“Can you get me books in _français_ too?”

“You can read books in French as well?”

“ _Une pune_ ,” she replied in her native language. “But I want to improve.”

“What will you do with all of this education?”

She smiled at me wickedly before she replied, “Be your equal.”

* * *

It was late in the afternoon when I was standing in a woman’s department, going over a few sets of gloves I had picked out for Burnham. There were three lined up in a row atop of a table, and I was currently scratching the bottom of my chin as I wondered which one suited her best.

“Do you need any assistance?” a female voice asked me from behind. I looked over my shoulder to see a young woman, with long curly red hair and an eager smile.

“I’m just picking out some gloves.”

“For your wife?” she cheerily asked. The girl was not quick enough to not catch the absence of a wedding ring on my left hand.

“No.”

“Oh, my apologies.” She went around me to stare at the set of black gloves, and probably wondered why I had to make such a difficult decision. “What are you looking for exactly?”

“Something warm.”

She pointed at the furry gloves in the center. “This would suit her well.”

I lifted the heavy set of gloves, and thought the woman was probably right about this one. “Could you help me pick out a coat as well?”

“Certainly,” she replied with agreeableness, and then led the way. The store was rather high-end in truth, but I had enough money in my pocket to splurge on the girl who was endlessly in my thoughts. There was some extra money in my pocket for myself as well, knowing I had a large party to attend too in two days time. _I’ll have to cut my hair,_ I remembered, and pull out my old uniform and have it cleaned and pressed. _It’s just another thing to add to Burnham’s list,_ I noted, and hoped she wouldn’t be too bothered by that fact.

“Here we are,” the store clerk piped up. “What are you looking for exactly?”

“Something warm.”

She smiled at me softly, and then led me to the end of the row. “This should suit _her._ ” The way she pronounced her, showed she wanted to find out the truth about this mysterious woman.

It was a rounded fur collared coat, with black fur adorning the whole of it. _This is too lavish,_ I thought, and then subtly suggested something else. The store clerk showed me a selection of coats from the back, but with the fancy buttons and the expensive furs it would signal to anyone that she was more than just a servant to me. “Something simple,” I suggested, and was pleased when she took me to the sales rack to show a plain black coat. “This is perfect.”

The store clerk frowned at me but made no remark to my statement. “Anything else?”

I suddenly went too far, for I demanded, “Hat, scarf, and boots. Oh, I don’t know her size. I will have to come back for the boots.”

“For your daughter?”

“No,” I quickly replied. “Could you show me the way?”

The store clerk lowered her eyebrows fretfully, as she was still trying to unfold this great mystery. _She will ask me if it is for a niece next,_ I mused, and wondered if it was best to lie to her flatly and be done with it.

Soon my hands were full of winter apparel, and the red-headed store clerk led me to the cash register where she punched in the prices into the ancient looking machine. I wanted to groan when she told me the exact amount of my armful of purchases, but instead I let her fold it up neatly as I pulled out my wallet from the inside of my coat pocket. “They must have just come here?” she spoke aloud. “For you to get so many things.”

I chose to ignore her statement, knowing this woman was smarter than she looked. Her blue eyes daringly glared into mine, but I let my face remain a neutral expression until she was forced to look away. Three bags were eventually handed to me, and then I walked out of the woman’s department store with a certain lightness to my step.

“You’ve been shopping?” my barber asked me the second I took a seat in his chair.

“Yes.”

He snipped at the side of my bangs, bringing back the military cut style I needed for the party Wednesday night. “That’s not like you.”

“I can’t be cheap all the time.”

“I know that store! My daughter shops there.” He paused to stare into the mirror, in which I was currently looking in. “That’s not the place for people like you.”

I let my eyes fall downwards in annoyance, hoping Philip would drop the matter entirely. “So, you got yourself a woman?”

“No.”

“Oh?” he asked with suspicion. _I wish he was done with my hair already._ “Your sister is back in town.”

“She is still in England.”

“Yes, she only comes during warmer weather. How could I forget?” He went around me, to take a good luck at my hairline. Scissors raised to the side of my head, Philip non-chantly asked, “So, you coming to play cards with us tonight?”

“I don’t know.”

“You’ve been gone so long ever since Tollen died,” he observed aloud. “I know it was hard on you, but he was just a _slave_ you know.”

“I know.”

“When I die, I only hope you will mourn for me that way,” he jeered, and then let the scissors go slack in his finger. “Mind if I shave the side burns, too?”

“Go ahead.”

He walked away from me to retrieve his things, and when I saw my own reflection, I was surprised to see how tensely brooding I looked.

“Got any plans for the rest of the day?”

“Not really.”

“Then I’ll see you tonight, then?”

I glared at him through the mirror, hoping my look alone would silence him on the subject. “Come on, you know Robert is getting married soon. It’s hard enough getting the men out of the house and away from their wives. You don’t have that problem, Gabe, so you should be more than up for it.”

“I’m tired of losing my money to you lads.”

“Aye, then you should think a little harder before you make such wild bets.”

“I found something better,” I answered him. “Not going at all.”

I smiled at my own reflection, but it became even wider when I thought of spending the night in with Burnham.

“So, there _is_ a girl?” a voice said behind me. Philip leaned over to his right to take a peak into the half open bags next to my feet. “Where are you taking her tonight?”

“There is no girl.”

Philip chuckled under his breath and went back to his work, seemingly pleased he had found the answer out for himself.

* * *

It was getting dark by the time I trudged through the snowy streets. The street lamps were being ignited by a few men with ladders; night was looming over our heads and soon the entire city would be covered in darkness. Snow had stopped snowing for once, so I was left with a dark violet sky with billows of red lighting floating overhead. It was peaceful here, with the occasional man or woman walking about the street to barking of dogs coming from nearby houses, or happy chatter outside houses as people wished their loved ones goodbye. I had grown to love this city, with all its charms of quiet peacefulness. I could only hope Burnham would learn to love it too.

Bags in hand I crossed a silent street, passing an alleyway where a few negros were chatting amongst each other. I couldn’t help but think of what Burnham had mentioned to me today: men and women being equals. She would probably advocate the same for our races as well. Burnham was a woman beyond her time, or maybe she was just the first to speak her thoughts aloud. Tollen never grudged about his position, he just went about his work as was dutifully expected. Burnham had dangerous thoughts, ideas that could get herself killed if heard by the wrong person.

 _Then maybe it’s a good thing she fell into my hands,_ I mused, and thanked my lucky stars for that.

I was almost home and couldn’t help but feel a lightness in my chest. The image of us sitting by a fireplace was enough for me to pick up my steps, and unknowingly walking past a man that knew me all to well. “Gabriel,” a fine voice called out from me from behind, and when I turned around, I saw my eye doctor with a well used pipe in hand. “I almost didn’t recognize you.”

“Doctor Palmer.”

“How’s the eyes?”

“Its dark outside, so its better.”

“Yes, you’re like a bat, I’d say.” He shot me a grin as he lowered his pipe completely. “I think its almost time to refill your prescription bottle if memory serves me well.”

“Its due next week.”

“Then I’ll see you then,” the white-haired man mused aloud. He stroked his hand through his thick beard, fingering it tightly with his bare hands as he nodded his head in my direction. “I dare say, there _was_ something quite different about you.”

“Sir?”

“It will come to me, no doubt. Best to send you on your way, I know you’re a busy man.” Doctor Palmer’s sarcasm was not lost on me, it was well-known I was quite the opposite. “Ah,” he voiced out suddenly. “Maybe it was a look of a man that is happy to buy new things. What did you get, Gabriel?”

“Winter clothing.”

“Winter clothing,” he repeated for some reason, and then stared at the front bags a little harder before he raised his eyes to my level. “For yourself?”

“Yes.”

“You secretly dress like a woman then,” he joked, and then I realized he must have recognized the label just as my barber had done earlier.

“No.”

“You got a lovely lady to look after, I understand.” He placed the pipe in between his teeth, while dark brown eyes narrowed at me. “This is new.”

“Yes, well, I should get going…”

“To her, I assume!” He laughed at me as I slowly back-pedaled away. “You will tell her I wished her a good evening, won’t you Gabriel?”

I turned around on my feet and headed straight home, moving across the snow as fast as I could to avoid the laughter coming from my doctor.

* * *

I shut the door closed behind me with a grievous sigh, knowing word would travel around sooner or later that I was in some sort of relationship. _And then they will have questions that I don’t want to answer…_

 “Gabe,” broke away the last of my thoughts, and I watched Burnham hurriedly walking in my direction with a look of concern. “Are you alright? You were gone so long.”

“Errand shopping,” I told her in truth as I raised up the bags. She unexpectedly kissed me on my lips, and then lowered herself back to her feet with her palms laying flat in the center of my chest. “Ah.”

“Yes, I wasn’t expecting that either,” she replied in a silky voice. “May I take your hat?”

“You may.”

Her smooth fingers lifted the large brimmed hat from my head, and then leaned against me harder as she struggled to put it on the high hook. I smiled as I watched her, liking how hard she was leaning against my frame. Once that was done, she unbuttoned my coat, much like I had done for her after she returned from church yesterday. There was no awkwardness this time, no sense of tension as she undid each button one by one. She did stop at the bottom two, however, seeing it was too low to a certain area to go on any further. “I hope I helped.”

“You helped.”

“I made dinner.”

I tilted my head downwards to take the last two buttons out of the holes. “Lovely,” I uttered under my breath. “I’m starving.”

“You’re always hungry,” she unexpectedly said, and then laughed right in front of me as if it was the most amusing thing in the world. “Do you like lamb?”

“I do.”

“Good, because we are having a lamb roast. I couldn’t find anything for dessert though.”

“We had a sweet enough breakfast,” I assured her, before I pulled the jacket down from my shoulders. She made no effort to move or take a step back, so I practically rubbed against her arm as I turned around to place it on the coat rack. “I brought you some presents.”

“Presents,” she laughed.

“Yes, but let me take off the rest of my stuff first.”

“I don’t need anything, Gabe.” _Oh, I really do love the way she says my name._

I kicked my boots off and laid it neatly against the wall. She had scolded me early on this afternoon about my messiness, so I was trying my best to change my ways. She noticed my effort and leaned in to kiss the side of my cheek as a thank you. I returned her favour by placing my lips over hers and digging my hands around her waist until I could pull her on top of me. She smelled lovely this evening, wearing some sort of perfume or lotion that was making me go crazy as I kissed her open mouthed. Her hands slid around the back of my nape, letting herself go on her toes too kiss me right back. She was a quick learner, for her way of kissing me had improved from the first time we did it. She was more precise with her movement, and when I let my tongue glide along the entranceway of her mouth she did not flinch or even fight back. I prodded the surface again, and she unaccountably let me inside. I lapped at her own, while my nails dug into the back of her shoulders and neck. I was squeezing her body hard onto mine, even letting my growing erection be known to her. She responded by lifting one leg up, and rubbing it against my outer thigh, wanting to feel my hardness in full. _I’m taking it to far,_ my conscience warned, but I decidedly went against, and let my tongue drive in deeper into her mouth. She moved back, but kept our tongues connected, and then turned her head away to quickly catch her breath. She breathed out deeply, her hands holding onto me for support.

“Will you let me sleep with you tonight?” I daringly asked.

“What? Wouldn’t that be going too far?”

 _Would it?_ I never answered her, only kept her close into my chest as she thought it through. She breathed out loudly, still clinging to the back of the neck as she kept a careful distance from my cheek. Her leg dropped down the side of my body, and then her body went slack within my grip as her feet landed to the floor with a heavy thud.

“I’m not forcing you.”

“I know.”

“I just… you said yourself a few days ago, that I would need your consent.”

She blinked sadly, and then let her arms slip away from the back of my neck. “Gabe,” she said with concern. “This is what you always wanted, didn’t you?”

“I want you, if that’s what you mean.”

She smiled sadly at me, before she let her hands slide down the front of my chest. Fortunately, she kept it there while she stared up at me. “Not tonight,” was all she said, before she slipped out of my arms and casually walked back to the kitchen. _Damn._

I respected her decision, of course, it was her right to say no. It was too early to ask it from her anyways, but I got lost in the moment.

I hope she doesn’t think I just want sex from her; there was so much more I desired from her.

_I should have kept my mouth shut. I’m such an idiot._

There were sounds coming from the kitchen, louder than usual. I decided to keep my distance and remove the rest of my winter clothing. Taking her things, I wasn’t sure where I wanted to leave them; they ended up resting next to her chair inside of the dining room, where she already had the table set up with a fire blazing inside of my fireplace. I noticed there was no wine glasses out on the table. _She thinks she is so clever._

The grandfather clock struck loudly from the drawing room, signaling that it was well past dinner time. I grunted loudly as I took a seat at my table, finding myself at a loss of what to do.

Burnham came into the room with her eyes intently avoiding my own, it only glanced in my direction once she set the roast onto the table. “I know you disagree with me, but I feel like I am doing the right thing.”

“No, I’m not… it just wasn’t the answer I was expecting,” I huffed out, as I tapped the tips of my fingers against the table. “But maybe I asked you too soon.”

“You’re a man,” she stated with a tiny sparkle in her eyes. “I’m not surprised.” She pulled up her oven mitts as she added, “I need to get the rest of the food. I’ll be back.”

 _If ever there was a sensible woman, it would be her_. My mood had turned more positive; Burnham wasn’t angry with me, and that was enough to roll up the sleeves to my sweater and lean back in my seat in a more comfort position.

Burnham soon returned into the room, and quietly dished out the food, knowing full well that I was watching her every movement. “You cut your hair,” she observed. “I like it.”

“I have a big event to go too.” I rung my fingers through my short hair from the right to left. “Sort of a party they hold for us old soldiers twice a year. A little get together.” _I’m rambling_. I bit down on my lip, and then lifted my glass of water begrudgingly.

“Do you miss it?”

“The war.”

“Yes.”

“I’m not sure.” I shrugged my shoulders slightly. “I miss feeling useful. Getting up everyday, fighting with my men. The _comradery._ Knowing that everyday can be your last.”

“You don’t feel that now?” she asked over her fork. The piping hot broccoli was currently letting out steam into the warmth of our room.

“It’s different,” I mused aloud. “I’m retired. My job here is done. There is nothing to live for now. No… sense of usefulness.” I rubbed my thumb across the side of the plate. “I got a badge. A handful of friends that invite me out from time to time. A title that gives me more privilege than most. A monthly financial package for my services, and an offer to speak at local military bases and universities. I’m a part of history, and the affects of war still follow us to this day.” I swallowed hard, and then gulped down a mouthful of water. “God! I need wine.”

“I’ll get you some.” She pushed back her chair and immediately left the room. I grinded my nails into the back of my head as I fluffed it upwards. I knew the bad memories would come back to me: the blood curdling screams, of hands jabbing into my sides in a desperate attempt to get me off them, the way my knife drove into their skin, penetrating the center of their chest with a two-handed thrust… “Gabe!” Burnham cried out and let a hand rest over my shoulder pleadingly. “Your face.”

I reached over the table to grasp at the wine glass and hurriedly gulped it down. _God, I better not get drunk,_ I worriedly thought, once half of it was down. “Burnham, put this on the other end of the table, will you?”

“What happened? I came back and your face was blanche white.”

“Nothing.”

“Gabe,” she pleaded, and came back to my side with both of her hands placed over the tops of my shoulders.

“The war,” I mouthed.

“Should I have not brought it up?”

“No, it wasn’t you,” I hushed, and was thankful when she inched her face forward. “I’ll be fine.”

“You’re sure.”

“Positive.”

“Will you be fine going there?”

“Yes, yes! Finish your meal, Burnham, you worked so hard and I don’t want it to get cold.” I was taken back when she slid one of her hands up the side of my neck, and then laid it over the side of my cheek. “Thank you, Michael.”

Her look was sympathetic, but she did what I had asked of her and returned to her seat. I waited until she dug her fork into her plate of food, and then I did the very same. “I’ll be out late that night. Don’t wait up for me.” She never replied, though I noticed the way her hand froze for a moment. “You’ll be safe.”

Her voice was light as she gently replied, “I know.”

“Do you want me to wake you, when I come home?”

Her eyes raised from the plate and without hesitation she told me she would like that very much. _My Burnham,_ I thought, _I knew she cared for me after all._


	8. A Good Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel was looking forward to a night in with Burnham, but his plans are interrupted with some unexpected visitors that are a lot more perceptive than he had hoped.

Michael was just washing up while I was enjoying an evening smoke. I happily leaned against the mantlepiece, staring off into the distance without a care in the world. I haven’t felt this well in a good long while. _My Burnham,_ I thought as a thin stream of grey smoke escaped the cracks of my lips. _She’s all mine._

Her bag of newly bought clothes was still placed next to her empty chair, waiting to be open the minute she came back. I intended to spoil her, adorn her from head to toe with richly things. I wanted to show the world how beautiful she was too me.

The fire cracked loudly behind me, so I took a step back and leisurely stirred around the fire. The house was cold, a thing that put me at unease to some degree. _Would she spend the night with me, I wondered,_ and then remembered she said that she wouldn’t. _Was it foolish of me to wish that she would? To have her resting in my arms the entire night long?_

I took a step away from the fire, and then began to pace around the dining room impatiently, desiring her to return to me this very moment. I’ve never been in love this way before, so possessively bewitched I hardly had a shred of common sense. She stripped that away from me, making me a man I hardly recognized. _What should we do for the rest of the night,_ I wondered, knowing it was already getting uncommonly late. _She will bid me goodnight in her sweet little way and that shall be the end of it._ I wondered if I had any power over her to convince her to stay, to complain I was hardly tired and desired her presence for another hour or two. _And what if one hour could turn into three or four,_ I pondered, _what then?_

I’ll convinced Burnham to sleep in my arms as we lay outstretched on the couch like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

A knock was heard on the outside of my front door, and I lowered my pipe with surprised to find someone to be out this late. _Its well over nine o’clock at night,_ I noted, and supposed it could only be my neighbour, for his servant has made some small inquiries from time to time. I was tempted to go into my office area and grab a gun, but then thought better of it. I heard Michael’s soft footsteps down the hall, and when she passed the dining room doorway, I ordered her to stay where she was. “I’ll get it!” I roared out, before I told her to hide her presents in her bedroom for the time being. “Won’t do to have any awkward questions,” I noted, and then walked past her to open the front door.

It was open a crack and already a gust of winterly winds was blowing against my face. Half squinting I recognized my friend’s faces at once, and promptly opened the doors for my visitors. “Philip,” I observed, the moment he stepped over the threshold. “Carl, and you brought Samuel too.”

The three men greeted me amiably, knocking their snow crusted boots against the carpeted floor till they were free of it. Their jackets were handed to me next, while Philip was busily talking about the reason he was here. “Games been canceled, seems the wives won’t let them out the house. You’re the only one free of a girl, so I thought why not?”

“So, you come to use my place instead.”

“Yes, and we’ll take it easy on you tonight since you keep on losing.”

“I made it quite clear I wasn’t interested.” My hands were free of their jackets now, and the boys took that as a good sign to slip off their hat and scarfs as well. “You know how I feel about visitors coming here unannounced.”

“We thought you were lonely,” Philip relayed with a slight shrug of his shoulder. “You’ve been locked up here ever since your servant died.”

“I have _not_ been locked up.”

“You have,” he argued back, after he was free of his boots. Grey socks tip-toed across my hardwood floor, and then he went out of view to claim he was going to the washroom.

Carl a long-time friend, and soldier gave me a sheepish smile as a way of apology. Samuel was too busy adjusting his long hair to care, making sure his braid was still intact after he pulled off a slouchy grey hat. Samuel was the only Indian friend I had, a soldier in the war that saved my life on one occasion in which my life was indebted to him. He came back from the war unscarred, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t suffered troubles of his own. “Well, what is your excuse?” I asked the both of them, after I crossed my arms in ill-humour. “Samuel, I know you have none?”

“I was hoping you’d feed me.”

I grunted at him, and then turned around with a wave of a hand to follow. “The kitchen is all yours, my friend,” I told him, the minute we entered the room. “Just don’t eat everything.”

“You have a cook.”

“Burnham should be down in a moment.”

“She’s new?” he asked, as he looked around the spotless kitchen.

“She’s new.”

“Good cook.”

I nodded my head in reply as I watched him open-up the pastry container to find it empty. “Could you send for her, I’ve barely eaten anything all day.” The small man was now inspecting the ice box, so I thought it was a good idea to fetch her. _So much for spending the night in with her._

I was just exiting the kitchen when I nearly bumped into Philip, and he let out a nervous laugh once he saw my look of scorn. “You don’t hate me, do you?”

“I told you no.”

“Look the next haircut is on me.”

“How does your wife feel about this?”

He laughed at me, as if it was the funniest thing in the world. “Are you kidding me? She is happy to see me gone, well, I wouldn’t be surprised if she was having an affair the amount of times she wants me out the house.”

I rolled my eyes at him and walked away, hoping to find Burnham and explain everything before she became too overwhelmed by the noise. I knocked on her door and waited patiently for her to open it for me. “Michael?”

“Who is here?”

“Some old friends. Are you hiding?”

“I wasn’t sure what I should do,” she confessed, with a guilty expression.

“Just be yourself,” I whispered, and leaned through the small crack of the door to peck my lips against her cheek. “They are hungry, do you mind cooking something small?”

“Like what?”

“Anything will do.”

She offered me a shy smile, and then opened the door wider so she could slip her body through. There was no look of hesitation when I took a hold of her hand, and she responded in her own way by leaning her shoulder against mine. “We have to play a little game, of course,” I whispered near her ear. “That you and I aren’t-”

“-I understand,” she quietly interjected.

“I will still treat you with the same respect, Michael.”

“I know you will.” A smile graced her cheeks when I kissed just behind her ear, inhaling that scent I loved so much in her hair. Was it honey? It was so hard to tell, but the fragrance alone made me stop on the staircase and turn her whole body around to taste those heavenly lips of hers. She took it gratefully, smiling against my lips before she gently patted my chest to stop. Her gaze shifted to the bottom of the staircase, and she was relieved to find no one was watching us.

“I should send them away.”

“No, let them stay,” she advised. Her hands rested over the front of my chest, a favourite place for her it seemed.

“Because you don’t trust me if we are alone.”

“Exactly,” she replied with a slight lightness to her eyes, and I loved her all the more because of it.

* * *

The boys sat around the table playing cards, and smoking on their tobacco. Samuel managed to smuggle a few beers in the inside of his coat, and now he had them all lined up on the wooden table for him to drink at his leisure. I sat in my usual seat, though, instead of cards in my hand, I had my usual Copernicus book.

“Thanks for letting us stay here,” Philip piped up. “I know you want us to go but-”

“-yes,” I cut in, and lowered the spine of my book substantially. “I do.”

“Well, we still appreciate it.” My barber looked around at his fellow card players and added, “Don’t we lads?”

“I do,” Carl softly replied. “Things are getting worse with my wife.”

I closed my book and set it down on the table. “God, I’m sorry Carl.”

“I think we just might have to end it,” he spat out bitterly, while his eyes focused on the handful of cards in front of it. “My only comfort is, my daughter is off and married and moved so far away she won’t ever have to hear about it.”

“You’ll have to tell her at some point,” I chided, knowing family secrets could never amount to anything good.

“Yeah, when I’m ready.” Carl looked around the table and shrugged his shoulders with remorse. “If things get really bad, you won’t mind if I stay here for a night or two, will you? I just can’t even take the sight of her face anymore.”

I thought of Burnham, the mere fact that my old comrade would get in the way of things. He was hurting though, locked in a loveless and broken marriage, so who was I to stand in the way of things?

“My house will always be welcome to you, Carl.” I narrowed my eyes at the rest of the men. “But you, lads, are on your own.”

Samuel raised himself out of his seat to retrieve another bottle of cheap ale, it was clear he was determined to get himself drunk tonight.

“So, you going to tell us about this woman?” Philip slyly asked, he peered his eyes over the set of cards in his hands, and I instinctively knew he was determined to get the truth out of me.

“There is nothing to tell.”

“Sure, sure,” he mockingly replied. “I know that look.”

I raised my eyebrows at him and made sure to lower my pipe away from my lips as I gave him a hard stare.

Carl tapped the end of his cigarette into a small ceramic bowl I let him borrow; he let out a low chuckle at our ensuing argument but made no comment on the subject manner.

“I’m surprised you met someone, given the fact that you rarely go out anymore.”

“I haven’t met anyone,” I lied.

“She must be something special.”

I rolled my eyes at him, and then left the table to stir up the fire some more. “How long do you guys intend to stay?”

“When the game is done.”

“The wood in the fireplace is nearly done, and I can’t afford to get some more.” I looked over my shoulder as I added, “It doesn’t help that you ate all my food as well.”

“Gabe, you know how small my rations are,” Samuel complained. “It’s like things go from bad to worse ever since you Brit’s came over.”

I ignored his comment, though I know some part of his statement was true. The French treated the Indians with some line of respect, but through the eyes of the English they would always be savages. Prior to the war, Samuel, was a hunter- obtaining fur for the thriving French fur trade, and ever since the war he has been wandering around looking for a job and a decent place to live in a world that no longer wanted his kind around.

“I will ask Burnham to go wrap you up something, so you can have something to eat for tomorrow,” I mused aloud, and abandoned the fireplace to fulfill this small errand.

Michael was quietly cleaning the kitchen when I found her; her expression was blank before she realized my presence, but a smile quickly spread over her face when she returned my gaze. I looked over my shoulder to make sure I wasn’t followed, and then quickly took a hold of her to lead her to some dark corner in the room.

We said nothing, only anxiously pressing our lips against each other. I let my fingers and thumbs dig into the side of her waist, clinging to the thick fabric of her uniform for dear life as she settled her arms around the back of my neck. I bit down at her bottom lip suddenly, pulling it away from her teeth for my own delight. Oh, I wanted to do some many things to her, to make her barely recognizable at that moment. My arms encircled the whole of her back, and she returned the gesture by busily stroking her fingers through my short locks. “Burnham,” I breathed out dangerously against her lips, finding it hard to keep myself together as I slowly grinded my manhood against her. I wanted her so badly at that moment, and the fact that she was responding by leaning herself into me, well, I couldn’t…

“Gabe,” she breathed out in a hoarse voice, as if she couldn’t take anymore.

My hands arrested the bottom of her spine, keeping her close enough to feel my growing need.

“I’ll send them away,” I told her. “I’ll send them all away.”

Our feet stumbled across the cold hardwood ground and I ended up crashing against a wall. Burnham hands swooped forward to cover the sides of my face, letting her thumbs drag down my side burns with a satisfactory tenderness. Our breathing was so loud at that moment, laboured with the growing tension that was felt in both of our bodies. I let a hand glide away from her back and let it settle just over her abdomen, wishing I could go lower if she let me. She watched my hand travel lower but stopped it once it past her waist. “Gabe,” she spoke softly, and then batted those beautiful eyelashes at me with concern.

“I just want to feel you.”

“You are feeling me.”

“No, Burnham.” I inched my head forward and let my chin rest over her shoulder blade. “Really, feel you,” I whispered into her ears, before I inched my head backwards.

“You want to touch me there?”

I nodded my head at her slowly, grateful that she was finally understanding my meaning.

She looked embarrassed, poor thing, and began to tighten her legs together so that I never even stood a chance.

“Maybe… I should go,” I mused aloud, seeing I had shattered the moment for good. “I came to see if we have food to offer Samuel, before he goes.”

“There isn’t much,” she replied, though her voice was shaking after each utterance. “Gabe…”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Why do you want to touch me there?”

“Why?” I chuckled aloud and turned my gaze away in case I laughed any louder.

“I don’t understand… I don’t know much.”

“It’s okay, Michael.”

“I just…”

I rested my hand on the sides of her cheeks, letting my thumb drag over the smooth surface of her skin. “You don’t have to know anything.”

“I know I want you,” she declared in a clear tone of voice. “I can feel it.”

“Then spend the night with me.”

“No,” she answered me in a low voice, barely audible if I wasn’t so close to her.

“Are you scared, Michael?”

“I just don’t want too.”

“I would never hurt you.”

“I know that.” Her gaze flickered towards the open kitchen door, and it was then that I picked up the sound of footsteps heading our way. We instantly separated, and I stepped forward to the oven where I could strategically snatch at a kitchen towel and open it wide enough to cover the bulge seen in front of my breeches.

Burnham opened up a cabinet, and pretended she was looking through the few food I had left, when the footsteps finally stopped in front of the kitchen door.

“Sam,” I stated, and coolly nodded my head at him.

“If I knew you would have taken this long, I would have objected to it.” He strolled into the kitchen, looking around as if he could find some lingering food for himself. You would have never known he had two servings of turkey sandwiches only an hour ago. “Say, you have any apples or something?”

“No.”

He scratched the side of his face tiredly, and only then noticed the moving figure in front of the open cabinet. “You have crackers,” he pointed out, and went over to the cabinet to stand right next to Burnham. “I can have these crackers, right?”

“Sure.”

“And cheese.”

“The cheese won’t last you the morning,” I pointed out, with a certain level of anxiety betrayed in my voice.

“I guess you’re right.” Samuel leaned against the side of the countertop, showing the beers he consumed for the past hour had finally caught up to him. “Say, you’re the cook, right?”

Burnham sheepishly nodded her head, unsure if she had the right to speak to this man.

“This is Michael Burnham,” I introduced, and purposefully took a step forward so I could stand closer to her.

“Replaced Tollen?”

“Yes,” I replied with some level of pain.

“I liked Tollen.” Samuel offered Burnham a small smile to make her feel more at ease. “You and I are at the same level, you know. Oh, I’m not a slave, but I might as well be.”

I bit down at my bottom lip, hoping this drunk version of Samuel wouldn’t be too outspoken.

“My people are slaves… for the French and now the English. Some of us had a choice, but your people didn’t…”

I swallowed hard at this uncomfortable situation and hoped Burnham wouldn’t say anything I would live to regret.

“No, they didn’t,” Burnham softly responded.

Samuel raised up his hand and offered it as a peaceful gesture. “Pleasure to meet you, Burnham.”

She glanced in my direction, seeking my approval. I offered her a curt nod of the head, and she knew it was alright to continue this dangerous venture. “The pleasure is mine,” she sweetly replied, and shook his hand with confidence renewed.

“I come by here often, so we might as well get acquainted.”

I cleared my voice to get both of their attentions. “Thank you, Samuel.”

“Yeah, well, when you are at the bottom you start to realize how much we are all alike.” He offered me a grin, before he stepped aside to retrieve the heavy box of crackers.

I let my gaze glance over to Burnham and saw that she was watching me. I offered her a smile, and she in turn took a step to the right to nearly lean against my shoulder. It was unfortunate that Samuel caught it all in the corner of his eye, and when he finally turned around to face us both he had managed to fit all the puzzle pieces together.

“Now, I get it,” he slyly relayed with something of a smug. “I see it now.”

I wore a faint grimace, not liking the amusement perceived in his eyes. “See what?”

“The two of you.”

“No.”

“Oh?” Samuel held the box protectively against his chest, fearing I would suddenly snatch it away from him. “Oh, maybe I was…”

“Yes, you were,” I nearly growled, and found my shoulders hunching backwards in defense.

“I just thought…” Samuel let his gaze fall over Burnham, and that look of shame was enough to confirm his suspicion. “There is nothing wrong with it, you know.”

I stepped forward, feeling the need to strangle the man if he said another word about it. Burnham had suddenly rested a hand on my chest, and in something of a whisper uttered my name out pleadingly. My arm dropped, I turned to her with blue eyes filled with something with fear. _They can never know, I thought, no one can._

“Gabe, please,” was all that she could reply, knowing this was something that needed to be uttered out aloud.

“I was right,” Samuel drawled out. “You needn’t worry, Gabe, your secret is safe with me.”

Burnham rested her arm around my broad form, and protectively leaned her other hand at the top of my chest. “How did you know?”

“I just did,” Samuel replied, before he opened the box to inspect the crackers.

“You won’t tell anyone?”

“Not a soul.” He drew out a handful of crackers and settled the box down on the countertop. “Can you believe I’m still hungry?”

I rolled my eyes at him, and then titled my head downwards when I heard Burnham laughing.

“You know my people used to marry the French.” He paused to swallow down the food, so that he wouldn’t choke. “Did it in good faith with the fur traders… even the early pioneers. You see, they liked our woman… and our woman like their men. Colour is colour… but there is nothing in this world that can stop a man from desiring a woman.” Samuel harmless pointed at the front of my breeches. “I think you can agree with me, Gabriel.”

I grunted at him fiercely, and then lowered the kitchen towel over me to blind it from both of their views.

“Gabe’s been a lonely guy for far too long, so I’m happy for him,” he relayed to Michael Burnham. “And you seem like a sweet girl.” Samuel looked to the right and made sure there was no one near the kitchen door. “But you will have to keep this thing quiet, of course.”

“I intend too,” I spoke aloud, for both of their benefits.

“Especially in this neighbourhood. Gabe, don’t be surprised if I move away, the minute I have enough money. I think I should go back to my own people again. There is nothing for me here now.”

“I understand.”

“Then you’ll understand if I take this entire box with me too,” he quipped, and with that he took up the box of crackers and briskly walked out the room.

I took a hold of Burnham, bringing her right up to my chest where her lips were hovering just over mine. “What do you think about what he said?”

“I think he’s right.”

“You’re not angry at me for lying to him? I just didn’t want him to know about us.”

“I understand.”

“Burnham,” I pleaded, feeling there was a certain level of strain between us. “I don’t want this to be ruined, that’s all.”

“It won’t be,” she assured me, though I detected a sadness in her voice.

“You won’t leave me… will you?”

“No, Gabe.”

“Swear it?”

“What?”

I let my hand glide down the whole of her arm, as I tilted my head to the right to examine her clearly. “Swear you will never leave me.”

“I could not make such a thing.”

“By the laws of this land you can never leave me, but I want to hear you say it.”

“If I am bound by those laws, then there is no need to say it.”

“Burnham,” I warned, knowing she was just trying to be clever with me.

“He was very kind and understanding,” she mused aloud. “But Samuel is like one in a thousand. The next time we won’t be so lucky.”

“You’re worried about getting caught.”

She nodded her head slowly at me, and I could detect the fear radiating out of her eyes. “Do you know what happens to people like me?” she asked. “People who get caught with a man like you?”

“I would never let them hurt you,” I implored. “Never.”

“You can’t always protect me,” she rapped out with bitterness. “Even if you want too.”

“No one will know,” I promised her. “Samuel won’t say a word.”

“You should get back,” she relayed with a coldness to her voice. “You’ve been gone long enough, and next time it might not be Samuel who seeks you out.”

“Michael,” I pleaded, but she was already slipping out of my arms and heading out the door. “Where are you going?”

“To my room, _sir,_ ” she replied with all politeness, and with that she was gone.

* * *

It was well past midnight when my friends were packing up. Carl was the last one in the dining room, when he positioned himself next to my shoulder and took in my crossed arms. “You’ve been quiet all night, Gabe.”

“I’m tired,” I droned out with something of a sigh. “And I wish you never came… not tonight at least.”

“I’ll make sure Philip tells you in advance next time.”

“Next time…” I tilted my head to fully look at my old friend. “I won’t open up the door.”

Carl nodded his head with understanding, and then looked down at his waistcoat that he was currently buttoning up. “Something’s been bothering you,” he observed, and then let those dark brown eyes raise slightly. “You’re not going to tell me what’s wrong.”

“I’m tired.”

“Something else, you were fine… and now its like someone rubbed you the wrong way.”

I moved away from him and pushed in my chair before I headed out the door. I didn’t have to tell him anything, and I had no intention too.

 _There is already so much at risk,_ I mused, and knew if I told him than what would prevent him from telling others.

The last thing I need is to put Michael’s life in danger just to fill one man’s idle curiosity.

“Get home safely,” I reminded the men as they put on the last of their winter clothes. “Sam, you sure you will be fine?”

“I’ll be fine,” he mumbled, though I feared the alcohol in his system would make the long winter trudge home a lot more difficult.

“There’s a couch, you know.”

“I’ll be fine,” he spat out with a harsh wave of the hand. “Don’t worry about me.”

“Philip?”

My barber simply shot me a grin, showing me he would get home perfectly fine. “Thanks for letting us come, General.” He usually referred to my title when he wanted to get a reaction out of me, he was ever so fond of a good tease.

“Yeah, and I hope to not see you in another two months.”

“Gahhh,” he droned, and chuckled harmlessly to himself as he turned his back to me to open the front door.

I bid them all goodnight, hoping I wouldn’t have to see a battered corpse of Samuel in the morning. I knew he would have to walk the longest, taking the dark alleyways to the very slums of the city.

“Hey, Sam!” I called out in the darkness. “If you stay, I’ll have a nice breakfast for you. A _hot_ one.”

The man couldn’t resist the temptation of more food, and pretty soon he was hopping through the thick mounds of snow to get to my open door. “Well, if you really want me too.”

“Wave to your friends goodbye, Sam,” I ordered, and while he was performing his task, I was already heading towards the couch to clean up the living room area.

“You are always so good to me, Gabe,” he implored, once he removed his hat from the shiny black jetted hair that fell down his back. “I owe you one.”

“No,” I reminded him. “Your debt is paid.”

He nodded his head in understanding, knowing the exact event that I was referring too. “But I couldn’t save the others.”

“You saved me.” I watched him remove his coat, and once he looked more comfortable, I told him to stay where he was. “I’ll be back with blankets and a pillow. Make yourself at home, if you haven’t already.”

The man was grinning from ear to ear as I left him, so I went upstairs to retrieve the said items and check on Burnham.

A quick rap on her door and she instantly opened it, her eyes wide with suspicion until I informed her of the situation. She quickly offered herself as assistance and followed me into my room to retrieve an extra set of blankets for my long-time friend.

“I think its nice of you,” she relayed to me, as we walk down the staircase side by side.

“Yeah, well…”

“It is,” she said in a much louder voice, and let her eyes shine with pleasure as she looked at me. “You have a good heart, Gabriel.”

My lips pursed with surprise, caught off-guard by such a statement. We walked down the rest of the staircase in silence, and had no qualms staying close to each other even when Samuel turned around to face us. “You need water?” I asked him, after I placed the blankets on the top of the couch. Burnham was currently spreading it out for him, making the place more comfortable for such a cold winter night.

“I think I’ll be fine,” he offered. The man looked tired and fell to the couch in such a way to make Burnham jump back in surprise. “Oh, sorry! Didn’t realize you weren’t finished.”

She looked almost sheepish as she replied, “It’s fine.”

“Its alright if I go to bed?” he asked the both of us, and when I told him he could, there was nothing holding him back from curling himself into a ball and snuggling up tightly in the thick layer of blankets.

I took Burnham by the hand and led her away, liking the warmth of her skin as I pressed it firmly in my own. She looked over her shoulder, making sure everything was fine in the drawing room, and then she led me into the dining room for some strange reason. “I want to make sure the fire is out,” she told me, as she peaked her head through the doorway. “And all the candles.”

“I did it all before I left.”

“Thank you.”

“I lived alone for nearly a month,” I informed her. “You learned to do these things on your own.”

“But now you don’t,” she assured me, and then turned around with such a look it nearly took my breath away. I felt her hands rest over the front of my chest, and then she slowly slid it forward to rest over my shoulder blades. There were no words said, and yet, she tilted her head upwards and kissed me with longing. I found my arms encircling the whole of her frame, spinning her around in circles as she went on her toes. I kissed her hard, so deeply it was like her lips were simply forming perfectly into mine. I rested a shaky hand over the back of her head, feeling such a sudden arousal it was a struggle to control myself. A groan escaped me, as she kept her lips on mine, taking back by her urgency in that matter. “Burn,” I hushed, for that split second, she moved her lips away. She took a hold of the back of my head and tilted my face in such a way to lather my cheeks with her kisses.

 _She needs to stop this,_ I worried, knowing if she kept this up, I wouldn’t get a wink of sleep tonight.

“Oh god,” I groaned, as her fingers wandered along the front of my neck and rested it over my pulsing veins. I forced my head in front of hers and took to kissing those taunt lips before she had a second to change her mind. Her body was slammed against the back of the door, a low thumping of the doorknob rocked against the side of the wall as I applied more pressure.

“Gabe?” I heard from the drawing room, and then suddenly remembered I had a guest. “Gabe!”

Michael released herself from her arms, and then looked highly embarrassed to see such a tent protruding from the front of breeches.

“Gabe?”

“Yes, what is it?”

“I heard a noise!”

I cursed under my breath (May God forgive me for that), and then shut my eyes with all the strength I could muster to keep myself together.

“Gabe?” Samuel continued, and to my horror I heard his feet walking along the carpeted floor.

“Go to sleep, Samuel!” I ordered, and then took Burnham’s hand to lead her to the stairs.

One hand rested over my crotch, my fingers curling over as I fought back the desire to get rid of the ach. I knew Burnham could see me; the shadows flickering across the staircase couldn’t even hide back my desires. _This would be so much easier if she didn’t sleep right down the hallway from me._

“Go to bed, Burnham,” I told her, once we reached the top landing. “And for God’s sake, lock your door.”

“Gabe?”

“Lock it,” I grunted, and then let go of her hand so I could head to my room. _God, I better be quiet,_ I thought, as I felt my hand tightening over my crotch.

“Gabe,” she pleaded, forcing me to look over my shoulder to see her tall silhouette in the darkened hallway. “Will you be alright?”

“Just fine,” I said with sarcasm, dripping through my voice, and without another word or look I stepped into my bedroom and did my best to lock the door behind me.

 


	9. Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Samuel's presence forces Gabriel to make certain decisions, ones he doesn't necessarily want to make.

The looking glass was extraordinary foggy when it was time to peer at it; I felt a wave of hot air at my back as I buttoned up my stiff white waist coat. Burnham had been up early this morning to prepare a bath for me, and all that time she had made sure to keep her distance. The events of last night was still fresh in our minds, as we both came to the realization that we had trouble controlling ourselves whenever we were together. Fortunately for her, I was half asleep when she heated the bathwater in my tub, and by the time I was ready to crawl out of my bed she was gone.

I threw on a fine cloak of military-like navy blue with large silver buttons that had so intricate a design it demanded attention. I turned to the side, eyeing my appearance, and then readjusted my ascot till it fit snuggly against my neck. The shade of my cloak brought out the blueness of my eyes, a thing I hoped _my_ Burnham would notice right away.

I rubbed my hand across my cleanly shaved face, tilting my head to make sure my hair was combed neatly to the side. I was wearing that deep brooding face again, that look of seriousness that was necessary for my profession. It was a rare thing for me to smile, but whenever my thoughts turned to Michael Burnham I noticed a certain lightness to my eyes.

I let out a low sigh, trying to gather myself together before I went downstairs. I was unsure how to interact with Burnham, especially since my old comrade and friend, Samuel, should just be waking up from his deep slumber. Casting worry aside, I stepped out of the toilette and strode towards my bedroom window to open my drapes.

 _Oh great,_ I thought, as the branches in front of my window had turned to icicles late last night. This means the walkway will be frozen too, and the sidewalks…

I let out an irritated sigh, knowing this is the one day I had to go out to prepare for the dinner party tomorrow night. _Just my luck._

I let the blinds remain open and strode towards my chamber room door so I could finally go downstairs. The kitchen was empty when I peaked around the corner, and when I walked inside, I noticed she had already had everything well prepared for breakfast. There wasn’t much food in the house, but she had managed to make carrot muffins that smelled delicious, and when I opened the oven, I saw her egg quiche that was nearly cooked to perfection. It was rather odd that she wasn’t around, so I went to investigate the matter to see where she was hiding. The hallway was quiet as I walked down it, tremendously dark as the sun hadn’t fully shined into this part of the house yet. I heard snoring coming from the drawing room, a sign that Samuel was still fast asleep. I heard a light chink coming from the dining room, and I sped up my steps, knowing Burnham must be inside of the room to set up the table. My assumption was correct, for there she was, adjusting the fine china plates with a certain precision before she noticed my presence.

“Gabriel.”

“Burnham.”

She fidgeted with her hands nervously, and without realizing it she pulled in her bottom lip to bite on it. “Last night was…” I took soft steps forward, my eyes blinking with expectation as I awaited her next few words. “Do you think…”

“Yes, Burnham?”

“That…” She looked timid under my stare, the lids of her eyes lowering as she tried to contemplate the words that she intended to say. “This was a mistake.”

“What is?”

“This,” she relayed, and pointed her finger at myself before she turned it towards her chest. “We could never be together, Gabriel,” she hushed out softly in the silent dining room. “Why should we even pretend that we can… that _this_ could happen?”

“You want to end it.”

“I do.”

I lowered my gaze and stuck my hands deep into my side pockets of my breeches. “Why?”

“Because… you saw what happened last night.”

“Yes, you kissed me,” I uttered out with confidence. The corner of my lip twitched into a smile, sharp and mad-like; it was the remembrance of what she had done that made me look this way.

“And I saw the way you reacted when Samuel was coming in our direction.”

“Burnham,” I warned.

“You are ashamed of it!” she exclaimed with feeling. “Of us, and he’s your friend.”

“I just got…” I raised my hands in the air as I tried to come up with a feasible answer. “…worried.”

“That wasn’t worry,” she rebutted. “It was fear!”

“Maybe it was,” I answered back with a look of indifference. I strode away from her and closed the dining room door, so Samuel had zero opportunity of hearing the rest of our conversation. “I trust Sam, but that doesn’t mean he might let something slip out one day.”

“So, our lives are in danger,” she rebutted. “My _life._ ”

“I am aware of what could happen to you,” I reasoned in a stilted voice. “Very much aware of it.”

“They don’t even need to have evidence,” she related to me in a broken voice. “All they need is public knowledge of it and then-”

“-Sam won’t say a word.”

“You should send me away,” she fretted with fear in her voice. Burnham stepped towards me, inclosing upon my space with a hand just hovering over my chest. “I heard what happens to people like me, seen things…”

“Burnham,” I chided, and stepped into her space until she had no choice but to lean her hand against my chest.

“You think I’m the first negro to get involved with a white man?” Burnham exclaimed. “No! But I guessing you don’t know what happens to us.”

“Burnham, please,” I begged, as I sensed where she was going with this.

“If I’m lucky there would be only public disapproval of it, but that will be just the _beginning._ ”

“No one will know.”

“They’ll convict me of something, make up a story that will get be hauled off by the police. I’ll be tortured, whether it will be by the French law or English, but they’ll torture me… rape me, and if I’m lucky they’ll hang me in a prison cell.” She dropped her hands and tilted her body to the side so I couldn’t look at her fully. “But I probably won’t be that lucky,” she deliberated aloud. “They will hate that I’m educated…” she turned her head to the closed door and added, “That I can, as you say ‘articulate myself clearly’ in both French and English. They will do everything in their power to destroy me, Gabriel, and I can’t let that happen.”

“It won’t,” I bellowed, and reached forward so I could wrap her tightly in my arms. “It will never come to that.”

“Just let me be.”

“I know you have feelings for me,” I hushed gently into her ear. “I know it. I felt it when you kissed me last night.”

She bit down on her lip and shut her eyes tightly, fearful to say anything else aloud. “No.”

“You do,” I reminded her. “And its alright to be scared.”

“You don’t know what its like to be a negro.”

“No, I don’t,” I assented. “But I’ve lived long enough to see how your people are treated.” I tilted her chin upwards and forced her watery brown eyes to turn in my direction. “And you know I am not like that.”

“I know,” she whimpered softly.

“I’m not that kind of man.”

She offered me a feeble smile and nodded her head lightly while my finger was resting just underneath her chin. “Gabe, there is too much at risk.”

“I know there is,” I concurred. “But I’ve never felt this way about anyone before… never had so deep a connection,” I reasoned. “Have you?”

She shook her head in reply, letting those dewy brown eyes look daringly into my own.

“Stay with me,” I pleaded. My hands dragged down her neck delicately, and then I rested it on the sides of her shoulders to draw her near. “Say you will stay with me.”

“I have no other choice.”

“I know, but I want to hear you say it anyways.”

“But there is so much at risk.”

“Let me worry about the risk when the time comes,” I demanded. “But for now, can’t we have just a little stretch of happiness?”

A tiny smile played upon her face and I leaned into the last of her space to kiss her full on the lips.

Burnham fell into my arms, smoothing her hands down my back with a mix of emotions; her body trembled from my rough touch, aware of how hard I was squeezing the sides of her arm so that she could never get away from me. She was so light and delicate in form, but there was so much strength to her heart and mind. Burnham was a strong woman; I could see that now. There was never more attraction to a woman that could hold her own. I moaned into her mouth as I kissed her more, finding my arms wrapping around the back of her neck to keep her in a tight embrace. I really did care for this woman, continually aroused by the way her hands feverishly wandered around my chest in the tiny space that I had left for her. Burnham pulled down on the flaps of my cloak, bring me downwards with a sharp pull. I couldn’t get enough of her, finding it hard to believe that she was kissing me this way, so when I inched my mouth backwards and returned with my tongue prodding the thin line between her mouth, I was incredibly pleased that she submitted. Her tongue reacted against mine, sharp and prodding the tip of mine, and then I opened my mouth wider to swallow her lips whole. Her hands pulled down on the collar of my cloak, and I reacted in kind by laying the flats of my hand over her ass. Steadily I lifted her up, finding comfort as she wrapped her legs around the sides of me; soon she was mid-air, her arms wrapped around the back of my neck for dear life. Her laugh echoed in the room around me as I pecked my lips along her smooth neckline, but she made a shrilling sound when I gently nipped the side of her neck.

“Gabe,” she scolded, and placed a finger over the mark I had just left her. “It hurt.”

I shot her a mischievous grin before I smoothly remarked, “Did it?”

“Yes.”

“Then you will hate if I do it again,” I answered back in a darker voice, and made sure to kiss a spot of her neck gently before I barred my teeth down on her again.

I did love the little noise she made, the way her nails dug into the back of my neck at every interval.

“Gabe,” she scolded again in a voice that stretched out for ages. I laughed darkly at her, liking the way she said my name like that.

“Is that how you’ll sound in bed?” I asked without thinking it through, and faced the consequences of my words almost immediately when she froze. “Michael, I’m sorry. I was…” I swallowed hard, taking note of the how quickly her eyelashes batted at me in the heat of the moment. “I was…”

“You really want me,” she observed aloud, and something of a smile played upon her face. “Don’t you?”

“I do,” I admitted aloud. “All of you.”

“I was hoping to save myself for my husband,” she answered me in a clear tone of voice, it was so very different from my own husky one. “But of course, I could never marry you.”

“No,” I said rather quickly. “Never.”

She looked down at my chin, and then laid the tip of her fingers against it. She was still held up in mid-air as my eyes searched her face for an answer.

“Why do you want me?” she asked with a boldness to her voice.

“I just do.”

“Yes, but why?”

“Because I like to kiss you,” I teased, and tilted my head slightly to kiss her brow. “I like the way you taste, the way your lip forms against my own.” I waited for a moment, and when she didn’t respond I took the liberty myself to give her a chaste kiss. “And I want you to feel things you’ve never experienced before.”

“Like what?” she asked with idle curiosity.

I lowered her down, finding I could no longer hold her up for so long a time. She fell gracefully to the ground and adjusted her dress to fit snug against her form again. Her eyes looked over my shoulder for a moment, and then a sudden thought flashed across her mind.

“Your breakfast,” she fretted, and nearly ran out the door without a second thought. I unabashedly followed her, and soon we saw the smoke filling out the cracks of the oven.

“I’ll open the window,” I informed her, and ran to the other side of the kitchen to crack it all the way open. Burnham was busy turning off the oven; I heard her moan aloud in annoyance when the food was thoroughly burnt.

“I knew I should have never left the kitchen.”

“It was my fault,” I reminded her, and took a step beside her to open a cupboard full of kitchen towels. I spent a few minutes waving the towel around to clear the air of smoke, and Burnham was busy running around the household trying to open up every available window she could find to air out the house. “You’re cold,” I noted, once she returned to the kitchen. “Put on something warmer.”

“Samuel is just getting up.”

“I’ll deal with him. Go upstairs, Burnham.”

She left the kitchen quickly, and I heard her feet pounding up the stairs as she presumably sprinted up it. A long sigh escaped me as I looked at the charred surface of the egg quiche, wondering how anything could look so black. _So much for breakfast,_ I thought, and then looked to the far end of the countertops where the carrot muffins were at least safe from harm. The muffins were moved to the dining room, and then I checked on Samuel who was standing in front of the couch freezing to death.

“Is there a reason why all the windows are open?”

“Burnham burned our breakfast.”

“I thought you said she was a good cook.”

I lifted one of the blankets off the couch and threw it over my shoulders as well. “It was my fault.”

“What did you do?”

 _I kissed her,_ I thought, but the only answer I gave my friend was a simple shrug of the shoulders. “Go in the dining room. There are some muffins there. I will try and bring you a pot of tea as soon as I can.”

The man draped in a colourful blanket silently nodded his head at me, and then shuffled his feet tiredly across the hardwood floor to get to the destination. It was funny how everything turned out, but as long as I was certain Burnham was staying with me, a burnt quiche was the least of my worries.

 _My Burnham,_ I thought, and nothing in the world could hide the smile that quickly spread across my face.

* * *

“Do you still dream of it?” Samuel broke his muffin apart at the center, watching a thin stream of hot smoke rising in the air. “The war?”

“All the time,” I answered him in a deep tenor. “I hear the sound of thousands of men marching, the clicking of the muskets before we open fire.”

“The smoke in the air,” Samuel added. “Blinding our view.”

“The roaring of men as we ran as fast as we could across the Plains of Abraham.”

Samuel nodded his head woodenly, his eyes looking distance as he stared into my own. “I never had to face that… I was hidden in the forest.”

“And that is why so many of you survived,” I reasoned. “We may have looked more heroic, but we lost so many men that day.”

Samuel looked down at his untouched muffin and settled it down on the plate. He seemed to lose his appetite as much as I. “I tried to save as much as I could.”

“I know.”

An uncomfortable silence fell over us, as haunting memories came over us both. The fire cracked behind me, sending a warmth of air into my small dining room. I turned my head away from him to not hear the sounds of gunpowder, the chocking smoke that quickly overwhelmed my senses; gun shots filling the air, the cold northern breeze blowing across the empty plain.

Burnham cracked open the door, breaking me from my deep reverie. She noticed there was something off about me, and immediately her face was filled with concern. The pot of tea was placed down on the knitted mat, and then she walked over to me with her arm stretched out. I wanted to take it in my own, but I knew we were being observed by another. “Burnham, I’m alright,” I lied, and I wasn’t surprised at all when she gave me a certain look. “I am.”

“You look pale,” she murmured, and let her hand fall to the circular wooden groove at the back of my chair. “Are you catching a cold?”

“No, Burnham.”

It was Samuel’s voice that rung loud in the air as he exclaimed, “We were speaking of the war.”

“Oh,” she mouthed with understanding, and positioned her hips to be aligned with the corner of my chair. She was still close, enough for me to wrap my arms around her waist if I wished too.

“Gabe, you sure things won’t get worse?” Samuel inquired. He took a small handful of the muffin and was now placing it inside of his mouth.

“Worse?” Burnham moved herself away from me, with every intention of pouring my tea. “How so?”

“I heard you are going to a party tomorrow night. The men will sit around and talk of the war, and I only worry.”

My voice was curt as I bellowed out: “I’ll be fine.”

“You’ve gotten better,” he mused aloud. “You stopped drinking.”

“I still drink.” Burnham was quick to nod her head ever so slightly after my utterance.

“Not like before,” Samuel argued. He offered a small thanks when Burnham poured the tea inside of his own cup as well.

“I survived the war,” I deliberated aloud. “I thought I should stop trying to kill myself through alcohol.”

Sam chuckled loudly as Burnham took her leave. “I guess I should take up your advice.”

“It would help,” I slurred out slowly, as I watched the last of Burnham slip through the door.

“You really like her,” Samuel observed with something of a smirk. “Go on, admit it!”

I raised my teacup in front of my face, blowing softly over the creamy brown surface to cool it down. “It doesn’t matter how I feel.”

“She likes you,” he noted.

“You think you know everything, but you don’t.”

“No, I don’t,” He concurred, before he stuffed his mouth with the last remains of his muffin.

“You won’t tell anyone?”

“Not a word.” I grunted over my cup, giving him a death stare if he should ever defame Michael Burnham or I. “And what do you intend to do about it?”

“About what?”

“This whole situation?” he relayed with an uneasy expression. Samuel was slouching in his seat now, leisurely sipping on his tea as if he lived in this household his entire life.

“I don’t understand.”

“You’re going to keep her here, aren’t you?”

“She is a slave, of course, I’ll keep her.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Well?” I asked with annoyance.

“Keep her here as more than a slave,” he rapped out with an arched eyebrow. His brown eyes grew darker as he added, “When’s the last time you’ve been with a woman, Gabe?”

My bottom lip twitched in anger. _Who was he to ask such a question?_

“I see the way you look at her.”

“And?”

Samuel deliberated the right answer to give, and soon he gave up on the matter entirely to simply sip on his hot cup of tea.

“What are you implying?” I demanded, hating the silence that stretched between us.

“You want to have sex with her,” he cooly replied.

“And what if I do?”

“Then you’ll dig a bigger hole for yourself,” he responded without a second passing between us. “It’s one thing to have affection for her, but another to sleep with her.”

“I did not allow you to stay over to simply hear your sermons.”

“I’m not lecturing you,” he argued back. “And you know that.”

“I see nothing wrong with sleeping with her.”

“No, of course not.”

“By law I have the right.”

“Yes, I know,” he muttered under his breath.

“As long as I have her consent.”

“I know, Gabriel,” he answered back with a certain level of frustration. “But have you ever thought what happens if you get the girl pregnant?”

“That would never happen,” I sharply replied back, before I rose myself up from my seat.

I was halfway to the fireplace when Samuel yelled out, “And why not?”

“Because it won’t.”

“You _could_ have a child with her,” Samuel reminded me with caution in his voice. “And what will happen to that child that is neither black or white?”

“Enough!” I warned over my shoulder, after I snatched at my wooden pipe that was resting over the fireplace.

“That’s if she is even allowed to get to that point.” Samuel raised himself from his seat as well, whipping his long jet-black hair off his chest as he added, “They’d kill her first.”

“Get out of the room,” I bellowed, once I sharply turned my icy blue gaze in his direction. “Not another word.” Samuel shoved in his seat loudly and stormed out the room. “Damn his opinions,” I muttered under my breath, before I took to lighting my pipe ruefully.

* * *

I stood in front of the looking glass holding up my bright red uniform, it was placed just underneath my chin to see if it would still fit. _It might be tighter,_ I contemplated, remembering how little I ate during the war.

I looked more or less the same, though I was paler in complexion than a few years before. My eyes looked sad as I stared back at myself, my hand nervously rubbing down the length of my sleeves as I stared at my old military uniform.

I raised up the hanger and placed it over the top of my closet, and then took to go down on my knees to search for my old leather boots as well. It would need to be scrubbed at, and then glossed over with leather polisher to get it gleaming again. There was so much still to prepare for, and I still had to go out shopping for some more food for dinner tonight.

 _I guess I can send Burnham out to fetch something,_ I soberly thought, and then raised myself from the ground to go fetch her. The house was relatively silent now that Samuel was gone, he had left shortly after our argument. He swore an oath that he wouldn’t say a word, but that was after he gave a firm warning to myself. _Damn him._

Burnham was on her hands and knees scrubbing out the oven, making sure there was no remains of the burnt food from our breakfast earlier. “Are you hungry?” she sweetly asked, while she dragged her arm over her sweaty brow.

“Not yet.” I stepped forward, positioning myself against the countertop to give us both enough space. “You think you can go grocery shopping for me? I’m not sure where Tollen went, but if you ask my neighbour's servants they should know?”

“Yes, of course.”

“After you clean the oven then?”

“Yes,” she breathed out tiredly.

“Have you had breakfast yet?”

“I ate a muffin in the slave’s corridor.”

“And that is all.”

“There is too much work to be done.”

“Have another one,” I entreated. “And have a moment of rest before you go out. I know it will be cold out there.” I licked my lips nervously as I inquired, “Have you seen the new coat I bought you?”

“It fitted wonderfully on me,” she relayed with a large smile. “ _Merci beaucoup._ ”

“ _Vous êtes le Bienvenu,_ ” I smartly replied. “You will show me how it looks before you go out?”

“If you’d like.”

“Very much,” I answered her with crossed arms. “I’ll give you a key to check my mailbox as well.”

She nodded her head at me with understanding, before she took to scrubbing the oven again. “What did you think of Samuel?”

“He seemed nice.”

“I like the man, but sometimes he thinks he knows everything.”

“You had an argument,” she noted. “I heard the two of you yelling when I was having breakfast.”

“And did you know what it was about?” I asked of her, as my arms crossed tighter over my chest.

She shook her head at me, and then let her eyes glance over the old black oven once more.

I moved myself away from her, nearly heading out the door as I yelled over my shoulder, “It was about _you._ ”

* * *

I was in my chamber room rubbing my hand over my large brimmed military hat when I heard a knock on the door. I laid the hat over my chest, taking in its sheer size as I steadily walked towards the door. I opened it to see Michael standing before me, beautifully dressed in that simple black coat with a smile that spread from ear to ear. She looked smartly dressed, and I was happy to see it fit her slender form like a glove. She was beautiful too, and I wondered if it was wise to let the rest of the world see it.

“Gabe?” she nervously asked, once she realized I had not said a word for almost a minute.

“You look beautiful,” I told her.

She stood there motionless before me, her eyes downcast slightly with embarrassment. “I think… I will be able to take it off more easily this time,” she stammered out with nervousness.  

“Good.” She raised her gaze upwards, somewhat perplexed by my answer. “And the gloves?”

“They should be warm enough.”

“Will you need a hat as well?”

“It would help,” she deliberated aloud. “But its not snowing, so I should be fine.”

“I will get you a hat,” I promised her, before I stepped into her space. “To cover that lovely hair of yours.”

She swallowed hard after my statement and offered a warm smile that brought lightness to her eyes. “I should go,” she mused aloud, and took a small step back to prove it. “Thank you, Gabriel.”

“If you need anything else, just tell me.”

“I’m fine.”

“Anything,” I reminded her, before I allowed her to walk away from me. I leaned against the doorway, watching her figure slowly walk away. I knew she didn’t want to leave me, but she did so anyways. _Look at me,_ I thought, and when she finally looked over her shoulder at the top of the staircase, I found myself smiling. “Goodbye, Burnham.”

“Goodbye, Gabe,” she softly replied, and with that she was gone.

 


	10. Heated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel returns home from his short round of errands, and as usual things get a little heated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to @WestAllenDreams for asking for this next chapter. This one is for you!
> 
> On a side note, I think it is important to inform you that I am no historian. I am a History and English major, and I do live in Canada, but that doesn't mean I know everything. So I ask that you forgive me in advance for any historical inaccuracies, and believe me when I say I am trying my best. 
> 
> I hope to have another update as soon as I can. Hopefully the weekend won't be doing overwhelming with schoolwork and things.
> 
> Thanks for taking the time to read this story,
> 
> petyrbaaaeeelish

The bell rang behind me after I stepped out into the frosty air once more, the door swung softly to a close and I took comfort that another errand was done. I pulled down my wide brimmed hat, sheltering my eyes from the brightened sun. It was late in the afternoon, and yet the sun continued to bounce off the cold white snow and blind me with its brightness. I looked over my shoulder to see the black sign above my head, comforted that I could attain a carriage for tomorrow night. The dinner I would be invited to was far, almost a thirty-minute carriage ride away from my home. I took comfort that my old comrade, Carl, should be able to attend the dinner as well. I was never one for social engagements, the quietness of my own home was far more appealing.

I was walking along the snowy sidewalk now, trailing around the open area that showcased the seaport with a cluster of boats quietly docked at the bay. The striped red and blue flag of Great Britain softly flapped in the billowing wind, the tundra of snow resting over the wooden ships. I sometimes wondered what it would be like to sail back home, but it has been so long since I was away from England that I would feel almost like a foreigner now.

The sky was a light grey, clear light cascading upon the hardened snow beneath my feet. The air was crisp, digging into the tips of my ears even though it was well covered by my hat. I readjusted my thick winter scarf, taking in the scenery of the frozen lake with the wind softly blowing over it.

Samuel’s words seemed to be replaying at the back of my mind, worrying me the longer I thought about it. I was putting both of our lives at risk, I knew, and it would cost her more than her life if she was caught. I knew these kinds of things happened before, sexual engagements with a slave, but where they ever for romantic reasons? I knew I felt romantic feelings for her, though love was an overstretch. I could not love her, at least, I didn’t believe I did. It was some sort of twisted, unhealthy obsession that involved more than just my cock plunging into her. I let out a sigh, unsure exactly how I felt about her, or even what I truly wanted from her?

 _She said she wanted to wait until she was married,_ I remember, but the likely hood of her meeting another man of her colour of skin was slim, not when she lived in the house alone with me.

 _What if I am the one standing in the way of her happiness,_ I wondered, but then I remembered the kiss she gave me in the dining room and thought I had already made her happy.

Michael was so blessedly pure, so ignorant of the world. Oh, yes! She had knowledge of the world of course, her loves of books had given her that well attained knowledge of things, but I knew she was ignorant of certain things as well.

 _Like her asking why I wanted to touch her there,_ I remembered with something of a smile. _What will her reaction be when I ask to put my mouth down there as well?_

I licked at my lips feebly, wishing such thoughts wouldn’t come over me now. My sexual fantasies were getting worse, and it was no wonder why Samuel asked me when was the last time I’ve been with a woman. A small part of me wondered if I should go to a pleasure house tonight, but I had never been to such places before. The fact of the matter was I wanted her, but I could not have her… not really.

“Great,” I mouthed into the wind, knowing I was utterly conflicted with such thoughts.

 _If this keeps up, I might have to spend the night at Carl’s,_ I deliberated, _or dismiss Michael entirely._ I could never do that, I knew, my possessive nature wouldn’t even let her take a step out the door before I would ultimately call her back to me.

Hoping for a distraction, I decided to walk to some nice quiet shop to find a hat suitable for her. It was a foolish endeavour, I knew, but my feet were treading along the smooth path all the same.

* * *

Another hour pasted by, and I was sitting in a busy café with a cup of piping hot coffee and a small brown bag that contained Michael’s present. The window was frosty before me, but clear enough for me to detect the passing shadows as people went about their way. It was nearly dinner time, and I knew Michael was probably preparing a meal for us. “Us,” I muttered under my breath, still finding that phrase so hard to comprehend. Our fates were tied together, there was no hope now of escaping, and with that thought resolved in my mind I downed the last few sips of coffee and snatched at the bag to take my leave.

 _She’s staying,_ I resolved, after I swung open the café door. _Whether she wants to or not._

I stamped down the cold icy steps and turned the corner to pass by a low black gate that surrounded a quaint little house. I was lucky enough to live in a city where you didn’t know everyone’s business, but that didn’t mean things wouldn’t get unnoticed. I would have to be on guard; make sure the blinds were always closed, that Michael and I never gave anything away.

 _I’ll have no visitors,_ I resolved, and if my friends think they can pop into my house whenever they like they are wrong.

It was a lonely trudge back home, my hands deep in my pockets as I brooded over the situation. _Nothing good can come from this,_ I feared, and yet my feet steadily walked up the cobbled path.

I lived in a nice area of Saint-Michel, where most of the community belonged to recently colonized Englishmen. Many of them having more money than myself; I was well cared for by the government, I knew, and the status of being declared a General a year before the war ended had elevated me to a certain height. The fact that I was deemed a General, simply because our former one died from a bullet wound in the middle of battle was something I most often kept to myself, for I felt a sense of shame knowing it was a hasty decision made from higher authorities. I was only the acting General for only a few days I remembered, but I had led my men to victory, small though it was and purely insignificant to upcoming historians. _I fought in the Plains of Abraham,_ I would tell others, and that was enough to earn their respects for the timing being. Men glorified war, but I believe deep down inside we try not to remember the pain we suffered- the heartache and horror that we encountered day and night.

Samuel was right, this dinner would be hard for me. _It’s just one night,_ I told myself, but that did not quiet down the fear that fluttered at the bottom of my stomach. I was anxious of another relapse, that long dark tunnel that I finally managed to climb myself out of.

I pushed the last of these worrisome thoughts aside when I espied the front door of my house. A faint smile crossed over my face when I thought of Michael Burnham waiting for me indoors.

The house was quiet when I finally opened the front door, and my face looked grave and ever so serious to not find her there waiting for me. I shed off my coat and laid my hat over the wooden hook; I paused for a moment to hear any sort of sound, and just when I was about to give up, I heard soft footsteps approaching.

“Michael?”

She came around the corner, wearing a smile only for me. Every atom in my body wanted to reach out to touch her. “Gabriel,” she giddily said, and then went on the tips of her toes to run towards me. I caught her in my arms, giving her a hug that warmed me to the core. She soon settled back down to the floor, her hands still laying over me as she looked at me with a brightness to her eyes. “I made you dinner,” she piped up, and I saw how much her eyes smiled at me when she reluctantly let out a grin. “It’s your favourite.”

“Beef stew?”

“Yes,” she laughed, and then let herself slip out of her arms so she could take a few steps backwards. “Take off your boots and change if you wish, its all ready.”

“My Burnham,” I said aloud, and desperately struggled to wriggle the thick leather boots off my feet so I could take a hold of her. “How did you remember?”

She lightly laughed at me while she backed away further. I was quick to run after her, pulling her into a tight embrace from behind. Our laughs rang through the air, her feet lifting off the ground as I raised her up higher. “Gabe,” she laughed through her tears, her chest heaving with inexplicable laughter as I held onto her tighter.

“I’m not letting you go,” I warned, and carried her down the long dark hallway with her laughter ringing through the air. I settled her down at the entrance of the kitchen, and then stretched out my arms on both sides of the doorway to trap her inside of the room. She giggled out nervously at me, catching the changing colour to my blue eyes. Michael raised her fingers to her lips, realizing I was staring at them a bit too hard. Fingers fanned out across the white doorway, digging into the wood as I fought back that overwhelming desire yet again.

“Gabe,” she said, knowing exactly where my thoughts were turning too. Her dark eyebrows lowered slightly with worry, growing more anxious as each second passed by. I dropped my hands to my side dramatically, taking a slow step forward to find her inching backwards. I swallowed hard, never letting my eyes leave her. “Gabe,” she repeated with worry, her voice fragile and torn with mixed emotions. I took another long step forward and saw how much her chest heaved at the sight of me. Michael passed the oven and was settling herself into the far-right corner, the only spot that was hidden from the sunlight coming from the high circular window. _Is she being coy with me,_ I wondered, _or am I actually frightening her?_

“Close the blinds Michael.” Her hands went behind her back nervously as she tilted her head to the right.

I stood in my spot, impatiently waiting for her to carry out my command. She fidgeted with her hands timidly, and then straightened her back a little more before she walked over to the high window and pulled the meager black drapes over the last of the sunlight. “I forgot about your eyes,” she relayed in a low tone of voice.

“That’s not why I wanted them closed,” I told her, and then began to step forward again. She leaned against the wall, eyes widening with expectation. I stopped in front of her, not wanting to invade her space entirely; immovable as a statue I watched her, and then let my head tilt downwards to give her a good once over- I liked what I saw. “Michael,” I called out in a voice that demanded obedience.

She stepped forward, her eyes anxiously avoiding mine.

“What are you afraid of?”

I heard her swallow hard, and then she sharply turned her head to the oven where our dinner was just simmering.

“I won’t ask you again.”

Her voice was soft as she hushed, “You.”

“Me?” I demanded in a slightly frustrated voice.

“And what you want to do to me?”

“What do I want to do to you, Burnham?”

She opened her mouth, but suddenly closed it with an air of caution about her. Michael’s chin raised and then she daringly let her eyes settle over my own. “I know exactly what you want.”

I blinked at her; a conniving smirk spread over the right side of my face that could have rivaled the devil himself.

“And I’m not ready for it.”

“Oh, I don’t think you ever will be,” I warned, knowing once we started it would be next to impossible to stop.

“What-what?” she stammered out with a look of confusion. “What do you mean by that?”

I stepped into her space and let one hand creep around the back of her head steadily, and before she ever anticipated it, I pulled her in for a kiss. Her warm face was a stark contrast to my own cold one, her lips quick to enrapture mine with pure desire. I smirked into her kisses, knowing I was steadily leading her over the edge to something new.

Her hot breath filled the air whenever our lips parted, but it hardly lasted a second before I came onto her again. She was rammed up harshly against the wall, my hand supporting the back of her head as I kissed her aggressively. Burnham’s hands were shaking from the overwhelming arousal I was giving her, finding the grip around the upper part of her waist shocking once I dug the tips of my thumbs into the sides of her breast. If she would let me I’d grasp the whole thing, pull off her uniform and lay my lips upon those exposed breasts. The thoughts alone made a low moan escape my mouth while it was pressed on top of hers, my fingers digging into the sides of her body with possessiveness. “Michael,” I breathed out for half a second, finding the room growing hot and sticky with tension. “Michael, please,” I begged, feeling the aching below was only getting worse. Her nails were digging into the back of my scalp, my damp hair not bothering her one bit even when it was spoiled from the heat and sweat of being trapped under a hat for the whole afternoon. “Please,” I begged, and kneaded my fingers into the side of her breasts more, feeling it plunge into deeper regions I had never gone before. My voice was undeniably husky as I added, “I _want_ you.”

“I know you do,” she fretted, after she forced her face away. “But why?”

 “Because I just do,” I huffed, as I tried to catch my breath. “I do, Michael.”

“That’s not enough.”

“Of course, it is,” I argued back, and laid both of my hands over the side of her face to force Michael’s gaze in my direction.

Her voice was throaty as she replied, “No.”

“No?” I echoed, and found my eyebrows were lowering in disbelief. She shook her head fretfully, her eyes closing with pain. “What more do you want?”

“I want…”

I inched my face forward, tempted to kiss her lips again. I knew she could feel my heavy breath over her, my luring presence as I lowered myself over the whole of her body. I let my hands glide down the sides of her face, resting over her long neck for a moment, while she tilted her head away. “What is it?”

Her eyes were dark, almost stormy-like as she uttered out, “I want you to love me.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know. I will update it as soon as I can.


	11. An Open Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It looks like Gabriel's efforts aren't entirely in vain. It is only a matter of time until Michael Burnham crumbles into his desires.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I woke up first thing this morning to write another chapter. Yay! I hope you enjoy it :)

“Love you?”

It was an absurd idea. My eyebrows lowered substantially, long lines indenting the sides of my face as I slowly grimaced. It was too early for that, and I wasn’t even ready for those kinds of feelings. I’ve had those feelings before, and quite frankly I _never_ wanted to experience them again.

“Yes,” she breathed into the tips of my fingers that were just hovering over her lips now. I laid a finger gently over her kiss-swollen lip, pressing it against the bottom to separate it from her top one lightly. She laid her hand on top of mine, bringing it down until she could comfortably rest in mine.

“I…”

“You said you want me,” she uttered out. “But its not the same thing.”

She had a point, I knew, and found my left hand sliding away from the smooth ridges of her neck in defeat. “Loving you would only complicate things,” I lied.

“No, it won’t.”

“It will,” I assured her, now that I was stumbling into my own idea. “Believe me, it will.”

“Then I’ve already complicated it,” she boldly answered me, and suddenly reached forward with a hand heavily pressed on the top of my shoulder to steer me in. Her kisses were slow and drawn out, showing me, she was finally mastering the art of kissing. I felt a shiver down my spine, a raw energy igniting within me the more she pressed her lips on mine. For once I let her be the dominate one, and simply stood there enjoying this new side of Burnham that I had never seen before. Her arms wrapped around the back of my neck to pull me in, arching my back forward until I was leaning the whole of my weight against her. Burnham leaned against the solid wall, where only the back of my hand was pressed against the cold wall to give her back added support. Her kisses were heady and full of emotion; her fingers digging into the back of my collar, continually pushing down the fabric to get at more of my smooth skin. I couldn’t believe it, was she finally giving in?

She parted her lips from me gradually, and then laid the back of her head against the wall with heated breaths. I watched her, locking my eyes with her own in silent amazement. Her look was so telling, like an open window to her soul; she wanted me, she wanted this, and that revelation alone made a small smile appear on my face. A light press was felt on the center of my chest, and I looked down to see her right hand was firmly placed there. “I want you to think about it,” she panted, for she was still trying to catch her breath.

“Think about what?” I jibbed, hating the fact that her hand was like a barrier between us.

“How you feel about me?”

“I already told you-”

“-how you _really_ feel about me,” she interrupted. “And what exactly are your intentions.”

I smirked at her before I rebutted, “I thought I made it loud and clear.”

“You did.”

“Then?”

“But I want more than that,” she stated clearly.

“You want my heart, but you can never have it,” I angrily replied. “There is nothing there anymore.”

“You’re wrong.”

“Not this time,” I gravely replied with something of a sad smile.

She shifted her hand across my chest, and then laid it over my beating heart with meaning. “You’re wrong,” she mumbled, and then dropped her hand from my heating chest to walk towards the oven. “It’s getting late. We should eat something.”

“How can you eat at a time like this?” I asked over my shoulder, giving her a side eye as she continued to walk away from me.

“Because I’m hungry,” she rebutted in a sharp tone of voice. “And it might do us some good.”

My feet shifted across the cold black floor, and steadily I walked towards her with my hands swinging at my side. I leaned against the countertop on the other side of the oven, drinking her in under the dim candlelight. “You can’t avoid me forever.”

She was idly pushing around our dinner around with a large wooden spoon when she retorted, “I’m not avoiding you.”

“I want you,” I breathed out in a husky voice.

“I know you do,” she darkly replied, and intentionally avoided my stare as she stirred around our dinner faster.

“And I know you want me too.”

Michael’s hand froze for a moment, and she stared down at the bubbling pot with all the self control she had.

“You’ve never kissed me that way before.”

Her hand was still frozen, but her eyes had enough courage to dart her gaze in my direction.

“Ever.”

She quickly turned her back to me and fumbled around the cupboard to retrieve two sets of bowls for us. I watched her from a distance, letting the palm of my hand lay flat upon the frigid countertop where it felt no warmth from the oven. Burnham took out a tray as well, clearly intent on avoiding my lingering gaze.

“I can’t give you my heart, Burnham.”

“You can,” she rebutted in a stilted voice. She positioned her back to face me again, pretending to be searching for something inside of a drawer. She was lingering over that area for too long, so I stepped around her, and once I was close enough, I reached out for her bottom chin and tilted her head to face me. “You can,” she repeated with bitterness.

“No.”

“I’m not _her,_ ” she reasoned.

A false smile spread across my face that couldn’t reach my eyes. “I know you’re not.”

She sharply turned her head away from me, letting my hand hover in mid-air before I dropped it back down to my side. “Dinner is ready,” she sulked, and then turned away from me to dish out the beef stew. “If you could just go in the dining room,” she relayed in a shaky voice.

“I can bring it. It will be a minute or two more.”

“It is not your job,” she reminded me. Her profile was as stern as ever, as different thoughts seemed to be plaguing her mind.

“You know its not like that anymore,” I reminded her, and stepped forward to place a loving kiss on the side of her temple. “I’ll help you,” I breathed into the side of her face. Her limbs grew stiff, unable to fully spoon out the thick stew into our bowls.

“Gabriel, please,” she begged in barely a voice. I stayed where I was, enclosed in her space, staring at the side of her profile as if I couldn’t get enough. “Will you not let me be?”

“I don’t think I can, even if I wanted too.”

Her face turned in my direction, eyes quickly reading my expression. Her body turned towards me completely, and then one hand gently laid on the side of my face with meaning. The lids of her eyes dropped downwards and then she settled her brow over mine. “What is it?” I asked, uncertain of her current actions. “Tell me?”

“You need more time,” she relayed with sadness. Her brow lifted off mine, and her soft fingers smoothed over the side of my cheek lovingly. “Have a seat, Gabriel. I will bring your dinner to you in a moment.”

I stretched out an arm and pulled her waist into me until our chests crashed against each other. “I thought I told you those days are done.”

She smiled at me sadly, knowing the stations we had could never be eradicated permanently. “Then it looks like you don’t need a servant after all,” she teased lightly, though her voice was filled with a sense of melancholy.

“No,” I drawled out softly. “I only _need_ you.” She tilted her chin downwards with pleasure and made no fuss when I kissed her forehead lightly. “Let’s bring in our dinner together, before it gets cold.”

“Alright, Gabriel,” she quietly answered me, and with that we picked up our things and walked out of the kitchen side by side.

* * *

It was late at night when we were finally upstairs, the both of us lingering outside of our bedrooms as we engaged in idle chat. I was trying to have my way with her, flirting with her relentlessly till she had to cover her cheeks in embarrassment. My back was arched slightly, as I leaned against the wooden banister with glee. I could feel the fabric of my thin dress shirt stretching across my back, hoping if she saw enough of my strong form it might tempt her to come inside with me.

“Gabe,” she kept laughing, and covered her mouth to stop the laughs from escaping her. “You’re terrible.”

“Am I?”

“You are,” she remonstrated, and turned away slightly from me once she saw that mischievous look in my eyes.

“Are you cold, Michael?” I asked out of nowhere, realizing how late it was getting.

“It is a bit chilly,” she confided, and rubbed her hands along the sides of her arms to warm herself up. “But what about you? You don’t even have a coat on?”

“It was too hot in the dining room,” I reasoned. “I put too much wood in the fire.”

“I noticed,” she taunted, after she leaned her back against the smooth railing.

“I was distracted,” I revealed to her, and then straightened my back so I could hover over her. “By you, of course.”

“Oh, you are trying again, I see.” Her eyes glowed profusely in the darkness, telling me she was more attracted to me than she originally let on. I stepped into her space further, letting the light from the hallway fall over the side of my face.

“I am.”

“I can tell,” she answered feebly, as she tried to suppress her own stirring emotions. “But it is getting late.”

“I won’t see you tomorrow,” I informed her. “I will probably be in and out all day, and then there’s the party.”

“It will give me time to clean,” she taunted. “Since you have a habit of pulling me away from my work.”

“You will be fine alone, won’t you?” I inquired. I laid a hand over the banister just next to her left hip, my hand grazing the soft fabric of her uniform ever so slightly.

“I will be fine,” she assured me in a soothing voice.

“I will be home late.”

“I know.”

“Very late, but I will try my best not too.”

“Stay as late as you need too.”

“What if I don’t want too?” I teased and hovered over her space some more.

She licked her lip at me, sensing the thoughts that were playing in my mind. “I think we should go to bed,” she repeated in a warning tone of voice.

“I agree.”

“Then goodnight, Gabriel,” she sternly replied, and slipped out of the little space we had to walk past me.

“Do I not deserve a good night kiss?”

She stopped in her tracks and took a quick glance over her shoulder to look at me. “No.”

“Just one.”

“One would lead to two.”

“And what if it does?”

“No, Gabriel.”

I followed her to her door, which was only a few steps away from my own. “One,” I begged, as I hovered over the entrance of her doorway. Burnham was already inside, slinking into the darkness with a playful look in her dark brown eyes.

“Goodnight, Gabriel.”

“One!” I pleaded, just as the door was about to close on me.

“One,” she finally assented, and stepped into the tiny space of the open doorway to lay her lips on mine. I was too quick for her, bringing both of my hands to the sides of her face to keep her there for more. I was trying to push my way through the doorway, but she wouldn’t hear of it; the second my lips released myself from hers she playfully shoved me away and closed the door in the process.

“Burnham,” I moaned in front of the closed door, hating the fact that her laughter filled the air around me.

“Goodnight, sir,” she taunted, once the chink of the lock was heard on the other side of the door.

“The little minx,” I groaned, and found I had no other choice but to saunter back to my own quarters.


	12. Pleasure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel finds out there is a world of pleasure to be had, but it will come at a cost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I read all of your comments even though I didn't respond to a few. In my defense I was currently writing and didn't want to give anything away. I hope this chapter answers all of your questions!
> 
> Feel free to leave your reaction down below. I am intrigued,
> 
> petyrbaaaeeelish

It was late in the afternoon when I stood before my dresser and heavily lifted my elaborately decorated military hat to place upon my head, the smooth velvet furnishing felt soft to the touch as I stroked my finger along the back of it. A nervous sigh escaped me, taking in the blaring red uniform that decorated my entire frame. Suddenly, it didn’t feel like three long years had passed, rather it was though the war had ended just yesterday. I grimaced at my reflection, feeling conflicted to see me decked in head to toe in my old uniform. “I did it for King and country,” I repeated to myself aloud, but that did not diminish the anxious feeling fluttering at the bottom of my stomach.

I angrily snatched the last of my things and let my heavy boots thump loudly across my chamber room floor as I headed towards the door. _It will be a long night,_ I surmised, and hated the thought of leaving my house already.

Burnham was found in my office, bent forward in front of my fireplace where she was setting out fresh slabs of firewood logs when I entered; her face brightened instantly at the sight of me. “Gabriel,” she exclaimed, and quickly rose to her feet to take a better look at me. I watched her wearily, knowing that nearly all women reacted in this way- a man in the uniform, it was next to impossible to resist.

“It’s almost time for me to leave,” I gravely relayed. “I came to say goodbye.”

She stepped forward, dark eyes still brightening as she took in my red coloured uniform with a crisp white collar and an ascot that was nearly chocking me to death. Her hand was hesitate to touch me, but when she finally let the tip of her fingers glide down my bicep there was something of a smile playing upon her face. “Yours is finer than Captain Pike’s,” she quietly remarked. “But you are a _General_.”

My voice was stiff as I replied, “I am.”

“You look well, Gabriel,” she said in a professional tone of voice.

“Is that all?” I gibed, knowing she wanted to add more to that statement.

“That’s all,” she answered me with a grin, and lightly dropped her hand away from me. “Will you be wanting anything when you come home? A late night dinner?”

“No.” I offered her a sad sort of a smile. “I should be well attended too there.” I lowered my gaze from hers as I added, “If you could just… hide the wine bottles for a little while… or any alcohol in the house, really… I’d appreciate that.”

“Why?”

“Because when I come home tonight I might not be the same person as before,” I coldly answered her. “And for God’s sakes, Michael, hide it well.” I turned away after that statement, ashamed that she should know of my past- my struggle that has been torturing me for the last three years.

“Gabe!” she called out, which forced me to turn around and look at her. “I’ll wait up for you… if you want to talk about it.”

“Thank you, Michael.”

* * *

“We are running a bit late,” Carl exclaimed, the second I slammed the carriage door behind me. “Sorry, Gabe. I had another argument with my wife.”

“I thought she would be happy you'd be gone for the night.”

“She’d be happy if I was gone for good,” he retorted with something of a snarl. “It’s bloody cold outside! Why are we going there again?”

“Because we were invited by the Admiral,” I relayed with a sigh. “And to not go would be inadvisable,” I added. “You never know if a war should come again.”

“No, its peace now,” he teased, and threw more of the heavy grey blanket over his legs. “I see you didn’t bring one. Want to share?”

“Sure.” He threw the blanket over me as well, and then a peaceful silence fell over us. It was snowing outside, light enough to not discourage such travels, but I wish the night was clear from any dangers. The city road would be gone soon enough, and then we would be left to journey up the old country roads that took us further uphill. I drew back the drapes, catching the golden glow of lamps that hovered just outside of my frost covered window.

“You seem in better spirits,” Carl observed. “I was worried about you.”

“You should be worried about yourself?”

“Well, we both got the short end of the stick in this case. At least you had the bottle to buoy you up.” He turned his gaze towards the window that was just over my right shoulder as he added, “And I’ve been just plain miserable ever since I came back.”

“We have all handled it in different ways.”

“You think yours is bad. Try waking up everyday without the strength to live.” He puckered his lips with regret. “I fell down a long rabbit’s hole, and only now have I managed to climb my way up.” He scoffed under his breath as he added, “And its only now that my wife is desirous to get rid of me.”

“I’m sorry Carl.”

“Such is life,” he barked out, and pulled the high collar to his winter black jacket around his neck more. “You’re not planning to stay long are you?”

“Only as long as necessary.”

“I’d say the opposite, but that would be just plain foolish.”

“You can come home with me, if you’d like?”

“No, no,” he repeated low under his breath. “A man shouldn’t have to hide from his wife.” He cleared his throat with purpose as he inquired, “How’s Samuel? He stayed over, didn’t he?”

“He did.”

“And?”

I tried to control my voice the best as I could as I uttered out, “He’s fine,” but it sounded so gruff with indifference that my old comrade picked it up right away.

“What did he do?”

I threw the drapes back in place to let the carriage fall into its natural darkness again. “He was being himself.”

“You weren’t in the best of moods that night.” I chose not to reply, and simply stared at the blank wall in front of me. “I should have convinced Philip to go somewhere else.”

“Yes, you should have.”

“I’m sorry, Gabe.” Another silence relapsed between us, but it wasn’t full of obvious tension. “Things will get better for the both of us,” Carl abruptly suggested, and after that he turned his body away from me and attempted to get some sleep.

* * *

The room was flooded with people by the time we entered the rented home, bright lights from candles illuminating all four walls. There was a pianist in the corner to the left to us, gathering attention as people continued to flood through the doors. A servant offered to take my coat, and I distractedly handed it to him, taking back by the sea of red right before my eyes. Carl took his place by my side, letting out an uneasy breath at the spectacle as well. “It’s been a while,” he muttered, but the distracted giggles from some of the soldiers daughters took us out of our brief reverie for a moment. “Let’s walk around,” he suggested, and pointed to the right side of the room where there were tables stationed and servants offering drinks. We passed through the area, nodding our head to various men who’ve never met before. It was clear my uniform was the most elaborate in the room, connecting to the status I held among the military classes. Carl, a rather short man, kept close to my elbow as we pushed our way through the tight throng of people. I was determined to get to the end of the room, wondering when we had the decency to get out of this tightly enclosed lobby.

“You’ll have to wait,” a man barked at me, when I tried to open the elaborate white doors.

“How long must we stay here?”

“Another ten minutes.”

I grunted at him as I moved away, crossing my arms in the process as I scanned the entire room. “Everyone seems to be getting along well,” I surmised. “Do you think it was just us having trouble after the war?”

“No,” Carl calmly drawled out. “It’s just a facade.”

“A very good one,” I noted, as I took in the men’s smiling faces. “They brought their families and everything.”

“Wives,” Carl pointed out with a pained expression. “None of them have a broken marriage, I guess.”

“You aren’t the only one,” I assured him, and patted him on the shoulder to cheer him up. “I just wish I was home.”

“You were never so fond of being home all alone. Why is this the case now?”

“I enjoy my solitude.”

“Too much.” He saw my honest smug, and did his best to look away. “You were never a hermit, Gabriel.”

“Maybe I am now.”

“No,” he rebutted in a stern tone of voice. “You’re not! And for another thing, you are too happy.”

“Happy?”

“Yes, you have this look about you,” he objected. “But I can’t figure it out yet.”

“I’m enjoying your presence that’s all,” I teased, as I looked over his shoulder to scan the crowd. “There is so many of us, do you think we could sneak out now?”

“You are proving my point.”

“How?”

“Determination to go back home. What exactly will you do when I get back there?”

A sneaky smile spread across my face, but I quickly covered with my hand and pretended I was scratching my cleanly shaven face.

“Whatever it is I want it,” Carl prompted up, and then irritably walked away from me with a jealous air about him. I was slow to follow, but soon we were pushing our way through the crowd of military men again. The finest of his Majesties humble servants was stationed in this room, all stout proud looking men with their chest puffed up as they praised to the skies of their victories. _Yes, but at what cost,_ I denoted, and tried to suppress the images that wanted to penetrate the back of my mind.

“Yes, but I’m so tired of the French making such a fuss,” an elderly woman complained not to far from me. She was surrounded by a crowd of woman, obviously the wives of many important men, for it was difficult for the female sex to be present here. “They complain of this and that, but they should really be happy that they are even allowed here.”

Another woman, much younger in age and looks, rebutted, “But they were here first, mother.”

I smiled at the spectacle, entertained at the fact that the younger generation saw things differently than the older one. I thought it best not to force myself into their conversation, and hurried on to catch up with Carl that was slowly making his round around the room.

I was hardly at his side when I noticed he joined a circle of men, and a sharp warning of his eye informed me that I should be on my best behaviour. “Ahhh, General Lorca!” a heavy set man introduced himself, and when he stretched out his hand I realized he was the Admiral that invited us to the party. “It’s nice to meet you at last. Please do forgive me, I’ve taken upon myself to look at the small portraits of my guest before they attend. Think of it as an advantage.” He shook my hand harshly, showing all of his strength in the palm of his hand.

“It is a pleasure to meet you Admiral Wilton.”

“Yes, yes,” he heartedly laughed, his face blemished in red that showed he had spent some recent time in the sun. “I think we should all get to know one another,” he prompted up. “I came back from the West Indies recently, and was amazed to discover us men who served our King and country had suddenly gone into isolation.”

“We tried to go back into society,” I explained. “Have a normal life.”

“There is no such thing as a normal life,” he explained to the crowd of men around him. “Not at all!”

“We served our King, as you say, but even you can admit Admiral that war does not last forever.”

“I only wish that was the case,” he revealed with a dangerous glimmer in his eyes. “The French have yielded for now, but for how long?”

One of the men in the circle argued that we should have peace for some time. “We control all of Quebec and its trading routes,” he reminded us. “The ports, aye, even the St. Lawrance River is ours.”

“Ours,” the Admiral concurred. “But the French are such passionate beings.”

“How would you feel, Admiral?” I quickly cut in. “If the French should take over us… instilling their laws, religion and even language upon us.”

“A French sympathizer?” he questioned me with narrowed eyes.

“A realist,” I rebutted. “And one who knows we nearly lost the war.”

“But we didn’t,” he countered with an edge to his voice. “And as it was…” The Admiral’s voice trailed off as he noticed something behind me, and when I looked over my shoulder I thought I saw a ghost. “Ah, my wife has come at last.”

 _Kat,_ I thought, and felt the insides of me grow cold at the sight of her.

“In my travels I visited the south coast of Great Britain and met a lovely lady there. Gentlemen, may I introduce to you my wife, Katrina.”

* * *

Pale aqua blue eyes fixated on me in disbelief. _Could it really be her,_ I wondered, and felt she was thinking the exact same thing.

She stood where she was, her face growing whiter by the second, even when her husband was impatiently calling out her name. The man pushed me aside to take a hold of his wife, clutching her by the sides of her arm as he inquired what was wrong.

She was unresponsive in his arms, her eyes continued to gaze into my own with amazement.

“My wife is unwell. Will you excuse us.” He urged his wife backwards, and led her out of our circle.

“What was that all about?” Carl asked to the left of me. “Did you see her face?”

I never responded, I didn’t have the strength too. My lip quivered violently and then I turned to leave to a quieter part of the lobby. There was none to be had, so I ignored the servant at the front door and went outside to the winter cold for some fresh air. Carl followed my footsteps and only when we were away from the parked carriages did he address me. “You know her, don’t you?” He watched my chin nod in reply though I continued to look out into the darkness of the empty field behind the house. “God its cold, Gabriel! Why did you have to come out here?” He shivered relentlessly but I was so numb with feelings I wasn’t aware of the change of temperature. “Who is she to you?” he demanded in a gruff voice. “I saw the look she gave you, and so did her husband. Come on, out with it!”

“An old friend.”

“You think I'm stupid, don’t you?”

“She was a friend at first,” I confessed in truth. “I was very close with her father.”

“And you fell in love with her.”

“Yes.”

“And she was you.”

“For a time… yes.”

Carl's teeth were chattering, but he did his best to make it stop. “Cold,” he complained, and rubbed the sides of his arms to bring back warmth. “And what happened?”

“She wouldn’t marry me.”

“And?”

“I want to go back home, Carl.”

“You can’t?” he remonstrated. “So, what? You run into a girl you were in love with!”

“Were?” I questioned him. My voice was rough as I revealed, “I still am.”

“But she’s married, Gabriel.”

A cold gust of wind blew at my face, tossing the snow from the ground upon me. I swore I felt as numb as the cold gale that filled the air, and when Carl complained of the weather again it went on deaf ears.

“Come inside, Gabriel! You will give us both a cold,” he chided, and used both hands to push me to the front door. Once we were inside it was clear the lobby had been emptied and people were already taking their seats. “I will find someone to fetch our coats.”

Carl left me in the empty lobby with only a few soldiers quietly conversing with one another at the back of the line; noise was coming from the main banquet hall, but I didn’t have the stomach to go inside of it.

 _I should speak to her,_ I thought, but too many years have gone by and our lives were forced to take a different path. The last time I saw her was on the eve of her engagement, and I had nothing but a pocket full of money and an advertisement for cheap land in British North America. _I was a boy then,_ I remembered, but now I was a man.

“I have our things,” Carl suddenly spoke up with our long winter cloaks in hand.

“Thank you.”

“Its been a rough night for you.” He was putting on his own coat when he muttered, “No wonder you never wanted to leave the house.”

I nodded my head in reply, and was just buttoning my cloak when a man walked by us and gave a double take. “You lads heading out,” he teased, and offered us a charming smile that brightened the whole of his face. “You know most people wait until dinner.”

“My friend isn’t feeling well,” Carl quietly explained with regret written all over his face.

“I am sorry.” A smile was still on his face when he offered his hand for me to shake. “General, right?”

“General Lorca.”

“Captain Pike.” I held my breath, and found my grip loosen in his hand. “Pleasure to meet you too. And you as well, sir,” he added, as he stretched out his hand towards Carl this time.

“Captain Davis.”

Captain Pike rested both of his hands on his hips and smiled at us merrily. He was handsome to be sure, tall and lean with golden blond hair that shined in the candlelight. His eyes were darker than mine, but it still held an alluring blue. “I understand I have a former servant of yours,” I carefully said.

“Oh?”

“Michael Burnham.”

“Ah!” he exclaimed with excitement. “I often wonder where they shipped her off too.”

“To me.”

“She is clever, isn’t she?” he hushed with an air of caution. “Of course, we aren’t allowed to say such things.” He winked at me playfully and then looked over his shoulder to make sure no one could overhear us. “Before me she worked for Lord Sarek. Brilliant scientist, might I add. She was there since she was born. She never speaks of her parents though, or her life there.” He smirked as though unseen memories come across his mind. “I was ever fond of Lord Sarek, strange though he was. And when he moved back to New France, I was more than happy to take her on another slave to my household.”

“Then why did she leave it?”

“Oh,” he murmured with a guilty expression. “We are not like the French… I don’t know how they can juggle so many slaves.” He wore a false smile then, one too hard to hold for more than a minute. “You said you are unwell, so I should let you go. Good night then, gentlemen.”

In unison Carl and I said our goodbyes, and then left the rented hall in search of a carriage driver that was willing to take us home.

* * *

I was standing outside of the carriage when Carl was crawling out of his seat; his face sour from exhaustion and overwhelming hunger. “You understand, don’t you?” The man’s face darkened significantly, mouth pouting with despair. “You not coming in.”

“I suppose.”

“I’m not in the right state of mind.”

He sighed loudly as he dropped down on the floor. “No, I understand.”

“Will you be alright?”

“I will wake up my cook and ask her to make something for me.”

I turned my head with purposeful intent as I contemplated aloud: “And I suppose I shall as well.” I fell into a painful lapse of silence, my eyes drifting over the grey horizon where snowflakes softly drifted to the ground. “Goodnight, Carl.”

“I hope you feel better.”

I turned my back to him, feeling the weight of his hand upon the center of my spine. “Night,” I droned, and trudged through the snow to get to the front door.

I never bothered to look over my shoulder as I opened the front door, feeling to low in heart to do anything else. I shut the door softly, hoping Burnham wouldn’t hear me. It took effort to remove my hat and even more to unbutton my jacket. _How long has it been,_ I wondered, _at least twenty years or more._

Twenty years she’s been hanging over my head.

Twenty years of having her ghost haunt me.

“Gabe,” Katrina’s commanding voice whispered in my ear. “There are no heart feelings, are there?”

Twenty years…

I bent down to untie my boot, feeling the weight of the evening resting upon my shoulders. They were removed slowly, lined up against the wall just how Michael liked it. I then tore off my cloak, hanging it over the wooden hook with something of a sigh.

The house was silent, so Burnham must be completing a relatively quiet task. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to speak to her right now. The wound was too fresh, and memories growing stronger from the sight of Kat.

I felt haunted by her as I walked up the stairs; seeing her youthful face smile at me with the sparkling blue sea in the background.

 _I should go to bed,_ I thought, though I knew there was no chance of that happening tonight.

I walked past my own door and headed straight to Burnham’s. My knocks echoed throughout the house; soft shuffling of feet padded across the floor. She opened the door and immediately sensed something was wrong. A hand reached out and pulled me into her room, quietly leading me to the edge of her bed that was closest to her bed stand. A small candle was lit, illuminating a detailed map of British North America- one permanently stored in my library. She brushed the map aside, setting it over the pillow of her bed before she turned to me.

“Gabe,” she whispered with worry, and let those sympathetic eyes fall over mine.

“Michael,” I hushed in a broken voice, and laid both of my hands over her own. “I was wrong… I do have a heart.” She nodded her head lightly, waiting for me to reveal more to her. “Her name is Katrina Cornwell.”

I smoothed my fingers over her own warm hand, trailing along in with silent musing. “You do understand, don’t you?”

“It belongs to her,” she replied softly.

“It did,” I hushed. “A part of it still does.”

“I understand,” she woodenly replied, and gently uncurled her hands away from mine.

“I met her tonight,” I explained with uneasiness. “At the party.” Burnham visibly slid away from me, not wanting to be near me further. “She looks the same, but I fear… I feel she isn’t the woman I loved twenty years ago.” I laid the palm of my hands on the bed behind me, and stretched out my legs in an effort to relax. “People change,” I muttered aloud. “I’ve changed, but seeing her… it was like a vision, a dream… oh, Burnham, if you could only realize how long that woman has haunted me.”

She turned her head in my direction, looking at me with saddens betrayed in her eyes. “And what happened?” she chocked. “What did you do?”

“I left.”

“Left?”

“I never had the chance to speak to her.”

“But you will,” she chocked out again, there was pain betrayed in her voice.

“I don’t know. She is married to a man far beyond my station.” I moved further up her bed as I revealed, “An Admiral.”

“Then… what will you do?”

“I will do nothing,” I told her. “She rejected me then..” I shrugged my shoulder that was closest to her as I added, “She will probably do so now.”

“But you don’t know that.”

“I don’t.”

“Then I am sorry.”

“For what, Michael?”

She rose to her feet and took the unfolded map with her; it was laid upon the small wooden desk on the other side of the room and it was there that she flattened it with the palm of her head. “For everything,” she reluctantly bellowed out with a fierceness to her voice. “I am sorry, sir. I think I should like to go to bed early tonight.”

“Sir?”

“Gabriel,” she answered back, but there was a coldness to her voice.

“Very well,” I huffed, and slowly climbed out of her bed. “I hope you know I saw your Captain Pike tonight. He smiles too much.” I heard a small laughter escape her, and when I turned my head I saw her body was facing me fully now. “And he is _very_ handsome.”

“Yes,” she replied with something of a smile.

“And friendly! He doesn’t strike me as a man of war.”

“Captain Pike is the very definition of a gentlemen, as you English men say.”

“Born and bred,” I laughed, and enjoyed the sight of a smile on Burnham’s face. “I left before they could even dish out dinner, do you think you can-”

“-yes,” she quickly interjected, and headed towards the door with a determined step.

“I’ll come with you,” I surmised, and was quick to follow her every move as we made our way down the darkened hallway and narrow staircase. “You’re walking fast tonight, Burnham.”

“I know you must be hungry. You are always hungry,” she gibed, and looked over her shoulder to shoot me a wink. I immediately took her hand in my own and kissed the back of it, missing this young woman’s presence so very much.

“What did you do when I was gone?”

“I cleaned.”

“You cleaned my map too?” I taunted in a mocking voice.

“I was interested,” she proclaimed. “It is strange to see English names written where French ones used to be.”

“Yes, well there is still some names in your native language.”

“Some,” she concurred, once we landed at the foot of the staircase. “But not all.”

“It bothers you.”

“I don’t understand how they can come and claim everything as their own.”

I was following her into the kitchen when I reasoned, “Life is rarely fair, Burnham.”

She stepped into the kitchen and looked around for something to make for dinner. “How very hungry are you? I prepared things for tomorrow, but it would take to long to cook tonight?”

“None of it has to be elaborate,” I concluded, after I leaned against the countertop to watch her. “Something to fill my stomach will be enough.”

“I have enough meat left over to make a sandwich,” she suggested. “I know its not-”

“-its fine,” I cut in. I took out the freshly made bread she made this morning and began to cut it, while she worked on the rest of my meal. “Have you eaten?”

“I made soup.”

“But not enough for me.”

“It was very small,” she replied in a flat tone of voice. “I used some leftovers.”

“You mean scraps.”

“It was only for one.”

“You must eat you know,” I chided with a playfulness to my voice. I plucked a sliver of bread I sliced and plopped it in my mouth, delighted to have something in my stomach for once. “I’m sure Captain Pike fed you.”

“He did.”

The girl’s back was to me, but I imagined she wore something of a smirk. “You really did like him, didn’t you?”

“I had no business liking him.”

“Oh, don’t be coy with me.”

“It would be illogical to by coy with you,” she reasoned with her back towards me still.

“He was full of appraisal, if that helps.”

“I am delighted to hear that.”

“You are a terrible liar, Michael.”

“So, I’ve been told,” she relayed, and only turned to face me once my sandwich was completed. “Should I light a fire in the dining room?”

“No, that would be a waste.” She placed the plate into my hand, and then made some small inquiry on the refreshment I would take with it. I optioned for water, and then found her pouring a glass before I had a chance to change my mind. “Where are you going?” I asked, once she turned the corner out of the kitchen and was heading towards the dining room.

“Sir?”

“I thought I told you-”

“Gabriel,” she corrected, and looked half embarrassed by my scolding.

“I’m going upstairs.”

“You are?”

“Yes,” I charged out with abruptness. “Are you coming?”

She followed me reluctantly, confused that I should take my meal upstairs. Tension rose in the air once I opened my chamber room door, and ordered for her to follow me inside. The girl grew timid all of a sudden, scanning her eyes around the darkened room since there was no candlelight yet. “You have a match on you?”

Fortunately she had one at the ready, and set my water of glass down on the bed stand before she took to lighting a nearby candle. I closed the drapes immediately, not wanting anyone to see the truth- that we were alone together in my room.

The candlelight exposed the truth, her tall form illuminated by the golden glow; she looked nervously over my entire frame, taking in my crimson red uniform under the candlelight. “I am sorry you left the party earlier,” she offered into the silence, hoping it would ease the tension away.

“Never mind that,” I complained. I set my full plate of food down on the bed stand and walked away from her for a moment. I went towards my looking glass to shamefully take a glance at my reflection, and then used it as an excuse to undo my ascot.

“Will you see her again?”

“Kat?” I voiced aloud. “I don’t know.”

“You want too.”

“A part of me does, but I know its ridiculous.”

“Not if you love her?”

Her question lingered in the air between us, and I feared to take a glance in Burnham's direction at that moment. “A boy’s love...” I tore the last of the thick white cloth away from my throat. “…is so much different from a man’s love.” I turned to her then, seeing she was standing right in front of my bed. “Have you ever been in love?”

“No,” she sadly replied with downcast eyes.

“Then count yourself lucky.” I undid my jacket in front of her, clearly not thinking things through. I was exhausted and ready for bed, and if I could find enough strength to eat the sandwich I would think the night ended off fairly well. “Have a seat, Burnham.”

She looked around for a chair, but there was none to be had. “I think-”

“-yes I can guess your thoughts well enough.”

“Gabe?”

“You needn’t worry,” I chided. “I promise you I won’t lay a single finger on you.” She took a seat at the edge of my bed, but she still looked uncomfortable by the notion.

“Will you not eat?”

I removed the last of my jacket and tossed it to the end of the bed with a pleasant smile. “Yes, I will eat.” I took a seat beside her, leaving enough space before I raised my hand in acceptance of the plate. It was soon resting over my lap and I chewed into it with silent contempt, happy that I should finally have something to eat. “Thank you for staying.”

“You never dismissed me.”

“Still…” I paused to swallow down my food. “You would have normally scuttled off by now.”

“I wanted to make sure you were fine.”

“I appreciate the gesture.”

“You would do the same for me,” she quietly answered. Her hands were tightly enclosed on her lap and it was only then that I realized she was nervous.

“Are you alright, Burnham?”

“I’m fine.”

I placed my half eaten sandwich down on the bed, and then turned my whole body to face her. “What is it?”

“I’m fine,” she lied. She rose off the bed suddenly and smoothed down her uniform to get rid of the wrinkles. “I should leave. Goodnight, Gabriel.”

“Wait a moment.”

She looked frustrated by my answer, and did her best to avoid my gaze as she waited for further instructions. “I haven’t dismissed you.”

“I’m tired.”

“So am I, but I still need you with me.”

Her lips puckered outwardly and with half a roll of the eye she answered back: “There is a difference between a want and a need, sir.”

“There it is again,” I sighed. “Very well. What have I done to offend you?”

“You have done nothing.”

“Michael.” She turned her head away from me and lifted up her chin with a prideful air. “Michael Burnham.”

“I am tired.”

I rose myself from my seat and shot her a daring glare. “What is it?”

She let out a sigh to show her frustration.

“Is it Captain Pike?”

“No.”

“Kat?”

She took longer to respond “no” and it was then that I put the two puzzle pieces together. _Burnham is jealous,_ I realized, and tried to hide my smirk from that knowledge.

“You don’t want me to see her?”

“You are free to do as you please.”

“You don’t want me to see her?” I repeated in a teasing voice.

“As I said before-” I cut her off by slamming my lips to hers, spinning her around quickly to the point that we both fell into the side of the bed. I quickly took a hold of her wrists, pulling them upwards so I could kiss her lips full on. She fought back for a moment but soon submitted, and then melted underneath me with a soft sigh of defeat. I pressed her wrists down into the bed, and tilted my head slightly to kiss her harder on the lips. Her right leg dragged up and down my body in a teasing gesture, toes scrapping against my leg to tell me she wanted more. I let my lips slip away from hers and kissed her cheek in a frantic manner, hearing her panted breath escape me from the suddenness of it all. Her arms relaxed under my grip, so I reluctantly let her go to place my hands on either side of her face. Her leg continued to grind up and down the side of my body, hands laying flat against the top part of my back to keep me on top of her. I closed my eyes in delight, feeling a surge of happiness that we even managed to get this far.

I inched my head backwards catching the nervousness betrayed in her eyes, the softness in the center of her dark orbs as she looked up at me. “Michael?” I asked, and saw the tiniest of smiles form across her face. _I make her nervous,_ _but what could I have possibly have done to do that?_ I rubbed the tips of my fingers through her tightly coiled hair, getting lost in the bountiful texture that never seemed to end. “Michael?” I questioned for the second time, for I noticed a curious look in her eyes.

She let her hands slip away from the center of my back and rested them on the sides of my shoulder, a sharp breath escaped her before she shyly licked her lips. Her hands trembled ever so slightly as she moved them towards my collar, and then suddenly she was unbuttoning the top of my shirt. I watched her with wonder, startled that she should make the first move. The second button was undone, and her fingers trailed lower to work at the third. “Michael?” I asked in a louder voice, and then silently asked her a question with my eyes. She answered me by undoing the third button and then shyly letting her hands trail over the exposed part of my chest. I leaned forward and kissed her full on the lips, and then wrapped my strong arms around her for a tight embrace. She laid there still on my bed, accepting my kisses as though she was lost in a daze.

I drew my hands upwards to stroke my fingers through the back of her hair, digging my nails into her scalp with something of a sigh. She began to kiss me back with confidence, trapping both of her legs around my body with every determination for me to stay where I was. I moved up her body more, finding my weight only made her sink further into my bed. I could feel our feet dangle over the edge, and knew sooner or later we would have to get into a more comfortable position. For now, it was more important that she wouldn’t suddenly back out once things got too heated. I changed the pace of my kisses, drawing it out nice and slow so she would want some more. I also lowered my hand to the side of her hip, and used the other to cup the very edges of the left side of her breast. Her body trembled with desire, her chest lifting off the bed to catch at my lips that were ever so slowly moving backwards. I moved my head back so she couldn’t get at it, and quickly dragged my hand that was resting over her hip to the very bottom of her spine. “You’re beautiful, Michael.”

She smiled at me shyly, lines crinkling around the corner of her eyes. She cupped the sides of my cheeks with tenderness, and let her thumb rub the side of it gently as she looked at me. _She really does love me,_ I realized, which made me freeze at this sudden epiphany. “Gabe?” she hushed with worry, and let her right hand drag down my neck and then sink lower into the small gap at the bottom of my open collar.

I shifted my eyes to the right as I considered the matter, but when she used her dainty fingers to undo my fourth button I forgot my train of thought. I looked down at her, she smiled at me shyly and then pecked her lips against the exposed part of my chest. I settled my lower half down on her, hoping she would feel my hardened erection right away. Her lips were hot against my flesh, and her fingers were busily fumbling with the rest of my shirt. I let my own hands explore the lower half of her body, trailing my fingers over her thick winter stockings she wore underneath. “I’ll keep you warm,” I found myself saying, and lathered the side of her cheek with kisses as she continued to unbutton my shirt. Warmth was an understatement, the room felt unbearably hot, and then I realized it was my Burnham that was doing that to me. She shed the top part of my loose white dress shirt down, pulling over the tops of my shoulder with a hard tug to get her lips at my collarbone. I had successfully found the very tops of stockings and with something of a merciless grunt I began to pull it down inch by inch. “Michael.”

“Gabriel,” she quickly responded, and shifted herself upwards to press her lips on mine. I kissed her open mouthed, dominating her with determination as she wriggled beneath me. Her hands wrapped around the back of my neck, but I kept my own busily pulling down the stockings that kept her warm. Her dress was already rolled up over her hips, and I was looking forward to the true prize found underneath them. I bit at the bottom of her lip with eagerness, pulling it back slowly until I let it fall back in place. Burnham nuzzled her head into the crook of my cheek and the heavy bed sheets. I took that small window of opportunity to lift her up slightly, pulling back her dress till it rested over her belly. She let out a gasp when I began to kiss her there, watching my lips hurriedly going downwards as I continued to pull off the last of her stockings.

“I’m going to make love to you,” I told her, after I moved the upper part of my body off the bed. I went on my knees to unravel the last of the stockings around her ankles. “Will you let me?”

“I…”

“Or I can just give you a taste,” I suggested, and threw the stockings off the bed with a menacing grin. I brushed back my short bangs away from my face, and heaved my chest heavily at the sight of her exposed legs. “Would you like that?”

She nodded her head eagerly, and then spread out her legs for me in open invitation. I went on my knees and slowly rolled her around, positioning her better on the bed before I laid her flat on her chest. The buttons were at the back of her dress, so I slowly undid the buttons, wondering how she managed to do this every morning. Once half of her back was exposed I leaned forward to kiss her hot flesh, hearing her tiny gasps as she felt me there.

“Michael,” I breathed out seductively, and moved my chin upwards to glide it along the center of her spine. “Michael,” I hushed, kissing the side of her neck with awe struck wonder.

“Gabe,” she responded, and quickly turned around to face me, pulling back my half unbuttoned shirt to kiss the center of my chest and then my lips.

“Let me take the rest of it off first,” I urged, and went on my knees to unbutton the last of my shirt. She in turn was trying to undo hers, but it would take a lot more effort and time. “Wait,” I requested, and openly threw my shirt away from me before I laid my hands on the tops of her shoulders. “Let me.”

She was laid back down on the bed again, her hands reaching out for a pillow to make herself more comfortable. I could sense her shyness, but there was also a willingness to be more open with me. “What changed your mind?” I asked. The buttons were giving me a hard time, so I thought it best to have some form of conversation. “Why are you letting me do this?”

Burnham covered her mouth with the top of her forearm, dipping her head lower so she couldn’t utter a word.

“It’s done,” I informed her, and lifted up a leg so I could no longer straddle her body. “Get up.”

Burnham pushed herself off the bed, and then faced me fully before she began to pull up her dress in the shade of the candlelight. I watched her, taking in the old and rather frail underclothing she had underneath. “I’ll buy something special for you,” I relayed, as I dragged my hand down the rough fabric. “Like soft silks.”

“No,” she mouthed with embarrassment.

“The finest lace.”

“Gabe.” She watched me untie the strings at the front, taking in the eagerness of my lustful eyes.

“I’ll make you my Queen,” I said. “My African Queen.”

I tucked her low into the center of the bed, letting the straps fall away from her body. There she was- completely naked, and I looked at her entire form under the warm candlelight. She used her arm to cover her breasts and I quickly tutted under my breath because of it. “Burnham, no,” I pleaded, and leaned forward to kiss the arm that was determined to be an obstacle for us. She watched me with puzzlement, and when she felt the tip of my nose press against her arm I heard a faint laugh. “Michael,” I chided, and used my hands to arrest the sides of her waist. “There are other places I can kiss you, you know.”

“Like where?”

I lifted my chin up slightly and let it rest against her arm, a curl of a smile came across the right side of my face before I winked at her.

“Gabe?”

“I’d advise you to move your arm.”

Her voice was betrayed with nerves as she asked, “Why?”

I licked my lips at her seductively, which only made her beautifully curled eyelashes bat with alertness.

“My Burnham,” I scolded, and then began to move downwards to the real prize. I kissed her each step of the way, feeling her knees press against my chest the lower I went. I trapped the sides of her hips with strong hands and then took in the wildness of her curls that laid over her secret treasure. “My gift to you,” I hushed, and then used only the tip of my thumb to part her slightly and rested it over her clit. She gasped loudly, and raised herself up to watch me.

“Gabe!”

“Hush, Michael,” I remonstrated her with a conniving grin, and then used my thumb to rub her clit in the most unexpected way. I saw her teeth grind slightly, confused why it would suddenly give her so much pleasure. “Sit back and relax,” I told her. “I know what I’m doing.”

She laid her back against the bed again, though I saw how much her fingers tightened until it formed a fist. I worked my own thumb against her again, rubbing it deftly as I inched my face forward. She was still nervous, poor thing, but I knew in time she would get used to the idea of me inside of her.

“Relax,” I ordered in a voice that demanded obedience, and then inched my lips over womanhood with the greatest temptation. My tongue slipped through the tiny crack of my lips, and then I used it to prod the inside of her, working my finger to pry her more open. I hadn’t forgotten about my thumb, and used it at my discretion to get her going. She was making noises from her side of the bed, her hips shaking with pleasure and slowly tilting upwards to rub her inner thighs against my face. She was getting wetter, a relief to myself, and I took a chance to prod my tongue into her more.

“Gabe,” she instantly reacted, her toes digging into the sides of my waist. “Gabe!” I lapped my tongue against her like a dog, and then puckered my cheeks into something of a dent before I sucked at her clit teasingly. “Gabriel,” she panted, and then wriggled over me as I replaced my long forgotten tongue with a finger. She moaned out my name in defeat, and I felt her toes stabbing against the side of my body. Her back jolted off the bed and her hands reached up to touch me, eyes squinting with desire as she laid her fingers into the depth of my hair. “Gabe, Gabe,” she repeated in both fury and delight, watching me smirking up at her with dewy lips. “You’re the Devil.”

I licked my lips up at her as I continued to wriggle my finger inside of her. She made out a panted moan, hips contorting and moving upwards without her consent. I wanted to touch her breasts as well, but that would have to wait for another time. “Gabe,” she moaned out with exhaustion, and curled herself forward to arrest my head for a feeble kiss. I drew my finger out and quickly went on top of her, spreading the juices of her womanhood all over her lips. I drove my tongue into her mouth, devouring her with everything I had. She curled her legs around me, feeling the prodding of my manhood against her, knowing I was so close if she was willing to let me in. “Gabriel,” she said with an air of finality, and I knew there was a change in the tone of her voice this time.

“Not tonight then, Burnham,” I told her, and gave her one last kiss before I rolled myself away from her. She laid there spent on the bed, chest heaving with excitement and lingering desire. She watched me move to the far end of the room, and blow out the candle with a sharp exhale. The room fell into darkness, and only the sounds of our heated breaths filled the air.

“Gabe?”

“I’m coming back to bed.”

Her hands were quick to enfold me, wrapping them around the back of my neck to give me a longing kiss. I laid over her for the third time tonight, brushing my hands over the sides of her breasts with wantonness. Our lips parted with an audible sound and then she asked: “What do you mean not tonight?”

“You’re not ready.”

“Aren’t I?”

“Not yet.”

“I am.”

I pecked her lips lightly, and shook my head at her in the darkness. “No, Burnham, you are not ready for this yet.” The thing I was referring to was just pressed against her again, a teasing gesture of its massive size and weight. “Believe me.”

Her hands encircled around the back of my spine. “Gabriel,” she pleaded in a way I had never heard before.

“God in heaven,” I grunted, as I felt her hips pressing harder against me with determination. “Michael!”

“Please, Gabe.”

“You said I couldn’t do it till I loved you,” I pointed out in desperation.

“You holding off only proves it.”

“No.”

“Logic dictates-”

“-you and your damn logic,” I huffed, as I felt her pressing herself against me again. “Burnham, go back to your room.”

“No, sir,” she purred right in front of my lips.

“Michael?” I asked in disbelief, before she suddenly crushed her lips against mine with hot desire. I sunk myself inside of her at a gradual pace, knowing she would feel immediate pain as she expanded with each thrust. Her kisses halted for a moment, her hands frozen from the sudden onslaught. I gathered the back of her head with one hand to keep it pressed against mine, my lips wildly kissing her to ease away the pain. “Michael,” I whispered for half a second to keep her focused on me, and then thrust my hips forward to sink myself into her more. I lapped my tongue against her lips, kissing her in a hurried manner as I continued to force my hardened cock right inside of her. “Oh God,” I hushed, and turned my head to the side to let out a deep breath. Her hands held onto my for dear life; rhythmic thrusts kept that logical mind of hers in sync. She made a noise with closed lips, and when I began to kiss up her neck she was more liberal with her elated groans. I drove myself deeper, feeling she had gotten used to the idea by now. It was too late to back out now, it was apparent by the way her nails dug into the back of my shoulders.

“Gabe,” she finally yelled out, much louder than I ever expected. “Gabe,” she moaned, and slammed her lips to the top of my forehead and hairline. I tilted my chin upwards to press my lips against her own, relieved that all those nights of temptation had finally come full circle.

“Burnham,” I echoed right back at her, thrusting my hips harder into her slender body to expand her in full. She shuddered at the impact, nails digging into my flesh with shock. “Stay with me,” I pleaded, and covered her lips with full assurance that I would never hurt her. “Stay with me,” I repeated, and drove the last of myself into her until she felt completely full. I remained there, knowing I would release myself into her womb whether she wished it or not. I pushed back any sense of worry and forced myself to focus on this moment: her chest heaving violently underneath me, hardened nipples piercing my chest to show she wanted me still. “How was it?”

“Wonderful,” she quickly answered me, and drew little lines at the front of my chiselled chest. “ _Magnifique._ ”

“And this is only the beginning.”

“It is?” she questioned me, with larger circles across my chest now.

“Yes, Burnham. There is so much I can do with you… and you with me.”

“I can?”

“ _Oui_ ,” I playfully answered her.

“Was it good for you?” she timidly asked, while she tried to catch her breath. “Are you pleased?”

“I am pleased,” I assured her, and stroked her short curly locks with pleasure. “More than pleased.”

“It feels weird,” she noted. “You inside of me.”

“You will get used to it.”

“I feel…” I heard her lick her lips. “…what is the word?”

“Happy?”

“Yes, but more than that.”

“How?”

“I don’t know the word,” she sulked, but I made her feel better by kissing her. I felt her lips curl upwards as I kissed her, knowing she was currently feeling on top of the world. I rolled her hips forwards, easing the last of myself into her with a unison sigh on both of our ends.

“You were tight, Burnham, but soon it will get easier. Less pain as well,” I promised her, after I pecked the tip of her nose. “Soon it will be nothing but pleasure.”

“Pleasure?”

“Infinite pleasure,” I assured her, and sealed it with a kiss.

 


	13. Desperation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel's feelings for Michael Burnham grows stronger, enough to put him at a point of desperation.

Her hand cupped the side of my chest, her cheek nuzzling against the warmth of my body. I laid there with closed eyes, feeling a sense of peacefulness as she slowly drew her arms around me.

She had spent the night with me, and now I felt her fingers lightly dragging down my broad chest where she softly lifted my chest hairs from time to time. She patted down on my chest hairs slightly, and then I felt her lips press against the softness of my cheek, letting it last for a moment or more before she retreated and laid her head on the side of my shoulder.

I pretended to be sound asleep, listening to her breathing as she patiently waited for me to wake up. To speak truth, I simply wanted to enjoy this relaxed moment; to sense how much she really cared for me when she thought I was unaware of her gentle moments. She pushed her body against the side of me more, her breasts puncturing the sides of my arm, spilling over the top that nearly made me blink open an eye. Burnham was so comfortable with me now; you wouldn’t have known it has been only days since we first met.

She tilted her head, the brushing of her chin against the side of my shoulder was felt, and then she kissed me there with such longing I had no choice but to turn my head in her direction. She froze, caught off guard by the forcefulness in my piercing blue eyes. I lifted my left hand to cup the side of her face, stroking the tips of my fingers against her cheek lovingly. She was so beautiful like this, so rarely pure in both her mind and soul. I shifted myself in the bed until I could face her fully, feeling her hand gliding down the top part of my bare arm in slow movements. I tilted my head forward and laid a tender kiss on her lips. Burnham’s lips formed against mine happily and continued this sly venture until our arms were fully wrapped around each other’s naked forms. The blanket shed itself downwards, folding over as I reclined myself on top of hers. She sunk into my bed, arms gladly folding around the lower half of my back as I continued to kiss her. She was so delicate, so small in form, and yet there was so much strength to her touches as she dug the tips of her fingers into my flesh.

She let out a quick sigh once I parted my lips from hers, feeling a sense of high as I grounded greedy kisses to the corner of her mouth and cheek. She tilted her head away from mine to catch her breath more, frazzled that I should desire her with some much passion and lust. I would make love to her here and now if she would allow me too, but I intuitively sensed that she wanted to take things slow. I moved my head and placed a chaste kiss over her lips, and then moved my head back so I could catch an expression in her dark eyes. “Gabe,” she uttered softly, and then batted her eyes closed with shyness.

“Good morning, Michael.”

“Good morning, Gabriel,” she answered right back, and then pressed her lips together tightly as she tried to hold back a smile.

“You’re more beautiful than ever,” I told her, so she would loosen those luscious lips of hers. “I do hope you know that.” She responded with a smile, a perfect opportunity to lean forward and kiss her fully on the lips again.

We rolled around in the bed, blankets falling over the edges of the bed, and I finally stopped when I was on top of her again. “I never want to get out of this bed,” I told her with a darkness to my voice. “Do you, Burnham?”

“We will have too at some point,” she replied, as she dragged her fingers through the side of my dark blonde hair. “And you will grow hungry.”

“I will.” I pressed my lips to a thin vein at the side of her neck, letting my hot breath spread around the surface. “But after I’m done, I have every intention of coming back here.”

“Gabe,” she scolded, once she felt a light nipping at the side of her neck.

“Hush,” I remonstrated, and did it once again to her annoyance.

“Gabe.” She used her hands to push my shoulders backwards, creating enough space to look at me fully. I tilted my head down instead and placed a series of kisses over her small breasts, ignoring her frustrated groans the more I ventured down there.

Burnham soon cupped the side of my head, wanting me to stop, but I wouldn’t hear of it. I went lower this time to peck my lips at her firm abdomen, delighted to see how well toned her body truly was. “Burnham, I don’t think I can stop,” I revealed with a shaky voice, noticing how unbelievably hard I was getting now.

“Gabriel,” she chided once I went over to her belly, and then suddenly rolled her over so I could kiss up the curve of her spine. She stretched out her hands ahead of her, and the folded her arms over the bottom of her chin so she could enjoy this game fully. It was strange seeing her naked form in the pale sunlight, the blinds were closed but I could still make out her features. _No one will know what we are doing,_ I thought with some relief, and continued this venture by rubbing my lips over the back of her nape. “Gabe,” she breathed out with ecstasy, making me uncomfortably hard after that utterance.

“Let me do it again,” I pleaded, knowing she could feel my hard erection over the curve of her ass. “Please, Burnham.”

“But I’m so sore.”

“I know,” I quickly replied. “But I can make it better.”

It was a lie, I knew, but she didn’t have to know that.

“Burnham… _Michael_ , please.”

“Roll me over.” Her body was tossed over with a quick lifting of my hand and I fumbled on top of her like an animal that had just escaped out its cage. I slammed my lips against hers, with one hand stroking her clit with heady pressure until she made a noise in the inside of my mouth. _Now,_ I thought, and placed my throbbing cock right up against her entrance to feel her chest sink downwards in shock.

I strengthened my kisses, pressing her head deep into the pillow with the forcefulness of my lips as I slowly made love to her. She let out a shaky breath, sharp and full of feeling before I placed my lips against hers again. There was no remorse this time, pushing myself inside of her with timely thrusts that made the bed creak from the pressure. I clawed at the bed sheets on the top corners of the bed, feeling I needed something to hold onto as I went into her further. She wrapped her hands around the back of my neck for support, laying her cheek against mine as she let out a series of heightened wails.

I felt myself going deeper, seeing how the friction and tension of our two sexes had loosened over time until all Burnham felt was pure desire. “Oh, yes, Gabe,” she drawled out seductively, and turned my head in her direction so she could lay her lips on mine. I was gone, falling helplessly into her arms as my hands dragged down the far corner of the bed and wrapped itself around the back of her head and neck.

“Burnham, I can’t stop,” I fretted, feeling that this was just the beginning of a mad craze that could spell the end of us.

“Don’t stop,” she begged, and I felt her body shudder from the slamming of my hips into her gentle frame. “Don’t stop,” she mumbled in a thin voice, and I followed her orders until I was fully inside of her.

“I have no intention too,” I breathed out, and kissed the side of her face sweetly. “And neither do you.”

* * *

She laid asleep in my arms, absolutely spent after I had my way with her. I curled my fingers through the thick curls at the back of her head, taking in how different the texture was to my own. Her skin a luscious brown, dark and full of character. Eyelashes curled effortlessly, her lips a beautiful shade of pink.

She was in love with me, I knew, it was evident last night- but now as she snuggled herself deep into my arms it was even more so. I wondered when it exactly began for her, for Burnham was a continual mystery to me, like a puzzle that needed to be solved in time.

It was late in the morning; I had never allowed myself to lay in bed this late. My Burnham was so engrossed in her sleep, it would almost be cruel to wake her up. _Let her be,_ I surmised, and relaxed my shoulders upon the bed to let her head slide forward and rest over the top curve of my chest. I laid a hand over the side of her ass, pulling her body closer to me. Her skin was so undeniably smooth, and soft, it was utterly intoxicating.

It was certain that she would be my mistress now, and I had a feeling she wouldn’t object to the idea. _But I could never marry her,_ I knew, and hoped she would not find fault in it.

_Our relationship goes against everything she believed in,_ I mused, _so will she change her mind over time?_

_I can never let her leave me,_ I thought, and pressed my check against the top of her head with possessiveness. _Never._

_But did I love her?_

I looked down at her tightly curled hair, and the tip of her nose that breathed out soft air against my chest. I care for her… desire her… but to love her…

I closed my eyes and thought of Katrina, the remembrance of her expression when she saw me last night. There was shock in her eyes but nothing more than that, no longing or relief, just amazement that our paths should cross once more.

_I won’t seek her out,_ I told myself, and then laid another kiss to the top of Michael’s head for extra security. I was a man of many vices, but this wouldn’t be one of them.

I decided to get out of bed and make us both some breakfast, seeing Michael was so exhausted it would be a struggle to even get out of bed this morning. I put on a minimum amount of clothing and then headed out the door, taking one last look before I shut the door behind me; she was the very essence of peacefulness, enough for me to close my chamber room door behind me.

I spent a long time in a kitchen preparing our breakfast, opening the drapes to see docile white snowflakes descend from the sky. Houses draped in white from the fresh fallen snow, the bare branches of the trees blowing harshly against the wind. I was not inclined to wander outdoors today and seeing that we had enough food in my cupboards, it wouldn’t be necessary for me to venture out of doors today.

_I have Michael all to myself,_ I realized, and then went over to the oven to finish up the last of our food.

* * *

My chamber room was eerily dark when I stepped in, the drapes still closed to block out the pale winter sunlight. I stepped into the room softly, not wanting to disturb Burnham from her precious sleep. I laid the tray on the bed stand on my side of the bed, and then went over to the windows to open the blinds ever so slightly. The light fell on the foot of the bed, a grove in the bedsheets was penetrated by the light, shining where her feet were safely tucked away under my sheets. I placed one knee on the bed, and then another, creeping my way towards her like a hungry predator. If I was a wolf than she was an innocent lamb; there was no escape for her, none so whatsoever.

I found myself on my side of the bed, resting my back against the large headboard. I lifted Burnham’s body off the bed a tad bit, settling her head over my lap. I was intoxicated by her, possessive, fearful of this underlining weakness that was in the form of Michael Burnham.

I would defy man’s opinion to be with her, become hell bent on destruction if anyone should take her away from me. _Not on my watch._

I rubbed my hand on the top of her shoulder, stirring her from sleep. “Burnham,” I said in a gruff voice, the sound coming from the very back of the throat. She blinked her eyes open, squinting at me as she stared directly upwards. “Burnham.”

She must have caught my expression, a certain look in my eyes, for she rose herself off my lap and sat up on the bed with her head resting over my left shoulder. She looked down, watching my hands fold over the front of her, my fingers drawing small lines against the bottom of her stomach. “What is it?” she asked in a tired voice, sensing something was wrong.

“I just wanted you to be awake, that’s all.”

“Oh,” she muttered softly, and rubbed the back of her hand against her eye in exhaustion.

“How are you feeling?”

“Sore,” she muttered again.

“I imagine you are,” I jeered in a sinister voice. “You’ll be happy to know I didn’t wake you up for that.”

“Gabriel, what’s wrong?”

“I’m…” I drew a hand upwards, letting it rest over the whole of her left breast. “…well, I’m not exactly sure.”

“What can I do to help you?”

I let my thumb flicker over her nipple teasingly, and then let it fall down her chest till it rested comfortably in her lap. “I just want you to be near.”

“I am near.” 

I kissed the back of her head, and then let out a worried sigh close to her ear.

“Something is bothering you.”

“I don’t want to lose you,” I confessed.

“You won’t.”

“We will have to be careful.”

She turned her gaze to my side profile, her face stern and impenetrable at the same time. “I thought we were.”

“You won’t leave me, will you?”

“Why would you think that?”

“I just don’t want you to regret anything.”

“I don’t,” she stated with a serious expression, and then turned her gaze forward to stare at my blank wall.

“I know how you are… honourable… upright.”

“Loving you is not dishonourable.” Her voice went softer as she added, “It goes against the laws of man, but not God.”

“You sound so certain of it,” I jeered with something of a snarl. “All I know is I will go against everything… _anyone_ to be with you.” There was silence on her end, a thing that concerned me greatly. “Why are you so quiet, Burnham?”

“I wasn’t expecting that,” she replied in a leveled voice. I watched the silhouette of hers turn towards me, and then her hands pressed against the front of my chest with willingness. I swallowed hard at the sight of her, this dark silhouette that hovered just before my eyes. She rested her hands on the top of my shoulders to push me down into the bed, her knees spread wide open to straddle me. “I have no intention of letting you go, Gabriel,” she promised me, before she leaned her weight on top of mine and went in for a kiss.

 

 

 


	14. Context is for Kings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel finds himself second guessing everything, but what he knows for certain is he will defy everything to ensure his happiness.

The bedroom windows were drawn open, I stood there bare chested looking outside. The snow was billowing over the roofs, tossing its way to the floor where people were walking the sidewalks and streets. I wasn’t looking at the world through my eyes for once, it was through Burnham’s. I looked over my shoulder to see her still sleeping in my bed, her hands wrapped around a pillow believing it to be me. I had covered her nakedness with heavy blankets, and now only her head was seen with her eyes serenely closed. She was safe, and I had every intention of keeping it that way. I looked out the window again, seeing every person that walked the city streets looked like me, but anyone that looked like her…

I drew the blinds closed with a sudden harshness, thereby, blotting my room out in darkness. I then stormed over to my closet and picked out some sensible clothes, though I had no intention of venturing outdoors today. I took a glance in the looking glass once I was done, caught off guard by the lightness in my face, while I looked like I shed ten years off myself in a single night. I snuck a glance at Burnham, feeling she was the cause of it. A sneaky smile played on my face, and with embarrassment I moved away from the looking glass to head to my bed-stand where a sole candle was still flickering. I took up our cold, untouched breakfast, and thought it best to throw it out for the time being. It was a waste to be sure, but it couldn’t be helped. I leaned over the side of the bed, pecking her cheek with my lips for one final time before I ventured downstairs.

A cup of tea was prepared, and by this point I was walking around my house with deep thoughts playing inside of my mind. Katrina would enter my mind, and then quickly slip away a few seconds after it entered it. The image of Burnham’s naked body often did that, a delirious sort of force that kept one of my hands downwards to keep my manhood at bay. Another thought that plagued me was the fear of her getting pregnant, and then another if I was in love with her- or was it purely an infatuation. I feared of us getting caught one day, and what would happen if people ever did find out the truth? Burnham would say its consensual, but would it really matter?

I sat down on the empty couch and stared at the wall with a landscape painting of craggy cliffs hovering over an icy blue sea, it reminded me of my true home in the south of Great Britain. I wondered why I felt trapped when I should have felt free, but perhaps it was the realization that no one could ever know what Burnham and I truly are. _It was a secret we must take to our grave._

It was no wonder I felt trapped inside of a box, knowing that I didn’t have the luxury- the god given privilege to walk about the streets with her as if it was the most normal thing in the world. _And what happened if I did,_ I pondered, _would they take her away from me? Beat her? Rape her? Hang her in the city square to make an example of what happens when a man likes me, falls in love with a woman like her. But did I love her?_ I rubbed my hands together feverishly as I tried to uncover the answer, unsure of where my heart exactly lied at this moment. It belonged to Katrina, but after the events of last night I’m not so sure.

 _Burnham loves me,_ I thought, and felt my lips bend upwards until it formed something of a smile. _She loves me._

I stood up on my feet and aimlessly walked around the drawing room, staring at each possession in my household with a new eye. _All of this will be shared with her,_ I contemplated, _as though we were husband and wife._

The mere thought of it made my chest fall downwards, a nervous sigh escaped the crack of my lip. I turned my head to the closed blinds, realizing I may have found true happiness after all. “My own paradise,” I whispered, and felt for once that those words were true. “ _Our_ own paradise.”

_And I will protect it at all costs._

* * *

I brushed my hand through Michael’s hair when she was waking up, her eyes batting tiredly at me with a lop-sided grin. “About time,” I said in a gruff voice, though I was only teasing her. “Afternoon, Burnham.”

“Afternoon?” she said in a groggy voice and attempted to push the blankets off her body. I let my fingers unravel out of the thickness of her hair and joined in her feeble attempts, watching her body shiver as the cold air touched her skin. “You’re cold.”

“Your bed is warm.”

“I’m warm,” I softly argued back, and bent my fingers downwards into the palm of my hand to motion her to come forward. She curled up against my body, her bare chest leaning against the side of my arms as she enraptured me in a tight hug. I smiled at her, though she could not see it from her present angle, her head was tilted too low and her lips were lovingly pressing itself against the fabric of my shirt. “I did tell you I was warm.”

Her hold around me tightened, and I let out a small chuckle in surprise.

“You must be hungry.”

“I’m not sure…” She tilted her head downwards to try and suppress a yawn. “I feel tired more than anything else.”

“You can sleep more, if you need too.”

“No, I need to get out of this bed.”

“You should take a bath,” I mused aloud. “Use mine.”

“Gabe?”

“Why does it matter?” I chided softly. “You’ll be living _here_ anyways.” Her long eyelashes blinked nervously, and then she nodded her head in understanding. “This wasn’t a one-time thing,” I told her. “You’re mine now.”

I never intended to sound so possessive, but it came out that way. She turned her head away, staring at that blank wall again. Her face was unexpressive, but her eyes held a curious look about them.

“I’ll set you up for a bath.”

“There’s no need.”

“Nonsense,” I quickly cut in a brisk tone of voice. “I did it after Tollen died… I can do it again.”

“But,” she stammered out with closed lids. “I don’t want you too.”

“Because you’re a…” I bit down on my lip, feeling the lines carve along the side of my face as I tried back to fight back those words. “Not anymore, Burnham.”

“What are you trying to say?” she hushed, her head tilting slightly in disbelief.

“It’s not like that anymore.”

“That?” she clarified. “It will always be like that.”

“Not in this household.” I brushed a hand up the spine of her back. “Not for you and I.”

She nodded her head softly, but her look told me she didn’t believe me.

“Not unless someone comes over, and then we put on a little performance until they leave.” I tilted my head downwards to place a kiss over her crown, inhaling the scent of her hair that was always intoxicating to my senses. “It will be alright, Burnham.”

“You seem so sure of it,” she said with worry.

“You and I are special,” I told her. “We’re above all of that now. Context is for Kings.” I placed a hand over her shoulder to inch her backwards, taking note of her face with all the expressions betrayed over it. “From now on, we make our own rules.”

* * *

I stood against the countertop with my hands flat against the cold surface, my head was tilted downwards to take in the scene. If Burnham wanted privacy, she wasn’t getting it, a long steady gaze was completely devouring her naked form dripping in water and soap suds as she bathed herself. She was nervous under my relentless gaze, wondering why I was still standing in the room.

“Gabriel please,” she softly pleaded after she couldn’t take anymore of it.

“I’ll make us lunch,” I found myself answering her back. “You don’t take long in there.”

“I’ll try not too,” she breathed with half a roll of her eyes. I stepped forward, and then took another until I stood at the side of the tub. A knee bent downwards, and I took a hold of the back of her head before I laid a hard kiss upon her lips, crushing it for my own pleasure until she knew for sure that she belonged to me. I heard her take a breath, and then laid my lips over hers again, nice and slow to draw out the moment. Her wet hand rested over the side of my face, surprisingly warm from the bath water which surrounded her. I tilted my head downwards to kiss the bottom of her chin, and then roamed over the corner of her lip till it landed on her cheek.

“You got ten minutes,” I hushed, and then abruptly stood up to leave the bathroom. If I stayed it would have not ended well for the both of us.

 _This isn’t healthy,_ I thought, as I tried to walk downstairs with an ever-growing erection. I shouldn’t be like this. Burnham was like poison in my veins, and I knew sooner or later I would lose control.

* * *

“The soup is good.”

Burnham’s mouth was stuffed with the silver spoon, but the minute she gulped it down she agreed. It was the first meal of the day for her, so she ate it hungrily. She professed a desire to start on the dinner right after, claiming the roast would take a long time to cook. I had no intention of letting out of her sight, however, and tried my best to convince her to delay it for another hour or two.

We were seated in the dining room, chatting amiably about whatever thoughts crossed our minds. She smiled more than usual today and had no qualms to stare deep into my eyes as we continued our conversation. The awful spell had been broken, and now we sat at the table as if we had known each other for many years.

“I am glad you like the soup,” she said after a while. “I will write down the recipe, if you’d like.”

“Just in case I need to be saved from the kitchen again,” I taunted her. “Thank you for that.”

She covered her mouth to suppress a giggle, her eyes squinting with pleasure.

“And I stayed the whole time you were cooking it, so I should know a thing or two.”

“The fish soup is easy to make, and it requires simple enough ingredients. When I was younger, and Lord Sarek went away, it was always his wife that desired this soup.”

“Lord Sarek?”

“My first master,” she quietly answered me, and then dropped her gaze suddenly.

“Did he… treat you well?”

“Well enough.” She shrugged her shoulders sadly. “Better than most master’s would have.”

“But I treat you better,” I mockingly gibed at her, and then stuck the spoon in my mouth as I narrowed my eyes at her playfully.

“I cannot compare you to him.”

I let the spoon linger in my mouth, watching as she shyly spun her own spoon around the thick bowl of soup.

“Do you miss it there?”

“I miss certain things,” she relayed in a monotoned voice. “But there are reasons that I am thankful I am gone.”

“Like what for example?”

“I’d prefer not to talk about it.” She raised her chin so her gaze to be leveled to mine. “If you don’t mind.”

“No, its perfectly fine.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, and then finally took up the spoon to bring the soup into her mouth again.

“I’m just happy you’re here,” I said in truth. I reached my arm across the table and took a hold of her free hand, laying it over hers with profound pleasure.

“So am I,” she finally relayed, though she could not look me dead in the eyes for once.

“What should we do after lunch?”

“I thought I should continue on with my list, there is so much still to do.”

“It can wait.”

“I’m not sure if that’s a good idea.”

“It can wait,” I told her with more resolve in my voice this time. “You expressed an interest in astronomy earlier, perhaps I can read to you one of my books.” I smirked at her as I added, “Or you can read to me, since my eyes are so weak.” I stroked my thumb across the side of her hand, trying to hold back the smile that was quickly overwhelming me. “When the snow melts, I will take you up on the roof and you can look at the stars.”

“Won’t someone see.”

“It’s night, Burnham.” She batted her eyes at me lovingly, and then sharply nodded her head in agreement. “I only wish I could take you to the local museum. There is one astronomer there, a lecturer of sorts that can articulate things better than me. If only…” I let my restless thumb stop for a moment, and then tapped it harshly against the side of her hand. “…if only you could see it.”

“I will have you describe it to me. You could be my eyes and ears to the outside world.”

I chuckled at her words, and then brought her hand forwards until it hovered just over my lips. I kissed the back of it rather too seductively, seeing the emotions betrayed in the depths of her eyes. I wanted to make love to her then, take her upstairs and have my way with her, but I knew it had to wait. I nipped at the back of her hand instead, hearing a faint squeal escape the tiny crack of her lips. I kissed the spot that I nipped in silent apology, and only released her hand once I laid it flatly on the table.

“Gabriel,” she said in a warning voice, knowing that look in my eyes all to well.

“I suggest you leave the room,” I told her with something of a smug smile. To my surprised she pulled out her chair and quietly left me, ignoring the wideness of my eyes as she intended to leave the dining room. “Burnham?”

“Let me wash the dishes at least,” she argued back to my surprise. I laughed as she went away, still not used to her having a wicked tongue. I was happy in truth that she had a voice, her honesty in situations like these made me feel better about our present relationship. _Yes, things are going well,_ I mused, as I gathered up the things on the table with every intention of joining her side.

Burnham never bothered to look up when she heard me entering the room. She soundless washed the dishes, her fingers clutching the small cloth as she scrubbed at a plate. I positioned myself next to her side, placing the dirty dishes down on the countertop before I leveled my gaze with hers. “What is it?” she asked of me, seeing there was a question posed in my eye.

“I don’t know,” I lied.

She looked down at the soapy water, and then lifted up another towel to dry off her hands. A firm hand took a hold of my own to lead me out of the kitchen, and only when we were in the hallway that she repeated the same question to me again.

“I don’t know.”

She gave me a knowing look, and then let her arms wrap around the back of my neck to pull me in. I laid both hands on the sides of her hips, waiting patiently for her to kiss me like I knew she wanted too. “You don’t know?”

“Burnham…”

“Yes, Gabriel.”

I shifted uncomfortably under her gaze, and she responded by tightening a hold around the back of my neck. She was on her toes slightly when she finally pressed her lips against mine, playfully kissing me with chaste kisses that left me begging for more. A haggard breath escaped me when our lips parted, feeling a warm sensation that trailed down me from her kisses alone. “Michael,” I breathed out desperately, slipping my hands away from her hips to the center of her back to pull her in. _I can’t say it…_

She kissed me hurriedly, reacting out of pure passion as she fell into my arms. Our breathing became more frantic, our hands shifting across each other’s forms with newborn desire. I found myself slamming against a wall behind me, my head leaning against the solid wall as she went in for more. I had created a monster, or maybe I just let out all that pent-up sexual repression, and now all that was left for Burnham was carnal desire as she crushed our lips together with a never-ending need for more. I searched eagerly for the hem of her dress, hating that her uniform was so intolerably long. Her hands suddenly dropped from the back of my neck to take a hold of my wandering hands, and with a heavy breath she took a step back with a leveled gaze. “What?”

“You came into the kitchen for a reason, Gabe,” she breathed out.

“I…”

She let the grip around my wrists loosen, and then she slid them up my arms until she rested it on the tops of my shoulders. “And it wasn’t for that.”

“Michael,” I groaned, wishing she would let me have my way with her again.

“What did you want to say?”

“I forgot,” I lied, as I still tried to swallow down my bitterness.

She laid a hand on the side of my cheek, squinting her eyes at me as if she was searching for something. “Maybe… it will come to you later.” She dropped her hand away from my cheek and slipped out of my arms. I watched her head back to the kitchen, hearing the water drip around the kitchen sink as she returned to her duties. I watched her for a minute more, and when I realized she wouldn’t direct her gaze in my direction I left her for good.

 

 


	15. A Step Downwards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel is starting to find his friends are suspicious of his moves, and when he comes to his old friend Samuel for help, they realizes how far he will go to not lose Burnham.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair Warning this chapter contains some sensitive topics. I am trying to detach my own feelings about these sensitive issues, so please do not think that I support them or condone them, rather I am trying to show the opinions reflected in that era.
> 
> Thank you for still reading this story,
> 
> petyrbaaaeeelish

My legs were wide open, Burnham sat herself in the middle with her back leaning up against my chest. The back of her head rested on the front of my shoulder, and my arms were wrapped around her to keep her close. We were lounging on the couch in the late afternoon, our dinner slowly cooking as we analyzed a world atlas together. Burnham had the same spirit as me, an adventurous one that longed to travel the world to see all the exotic images these foreign civilizations contained.

Burnham had knowledge of certain parts of the world, but there were still areas of improvement. I had taken upon myself to teach her these things, relaying the historical aspects of each country, sharing the knowledge I had from years encountering sailors and soldiers alike. Burnham was just asking me if I had ever been to the West Indies when there was a sharp rap on the front door. Her body stiffened, and I held onto her form even harder as I cautiously flickered my eyes towards the front door. “Michael, go to your room,” I hushed, and immediately she climbed off the couch taking the atlas and our two empty cups off the floor so she could hide it from the intruder’s view. “Don’t come out unless I fetch you myself,” I warned, and watched her walk down the hallway before I tried to pull myself together.

Carl stood in front of the doorway, his face all bundled up with a long hood and a black scarf half covering his visage. “Can I come in?” he asked in a muffled voice and looked slightly relieved when I took a step back to let him pass. “I hope you don’t mind,” he rapped out, after he stomped his boots harshly on the rugged carpet. “Me stopping by.”

“Not unless there is a reason.”

“I was worried about you.” Carl stopped to unwrap his heavy scarf, shedding snow all over the floor to my dismay. “You weren’t so good when I left you last night.” He pulled down his hood, revealing a black hat that snuggly settled over the whole of his ears. Once that was removed his hair as well was disheveled, and his pale cheeks took on a rosy hue from the harsh winds that must have blown at him outside. “It smells nice in here,” he observed, as he looked around my dining room. “And you’re looking better!”

“Thank you, Carl.”

“A lot better,” he said with suspicion, taking in my loose white shirt that was unbuttoned slightly at the top. “I can tell why you like to stay at home then,” he mused aloud, before he bent down to untie his boots. “Its so warm in here.”

“The only thing I tend to splurge on is firewood.”

“It’s a thousand times better than my own house.” Carl’s boots were removed, and then he removed his jacket to hang it over the wooden hook. “I won’t be here long,” he assured me. “Dinner will be ready for me in about an hour.” He walked past me and took his usual seat in the corner of the couch. “You look all comfy here,” he noted, as he pointed at the set of blankets Burnham and I were sharing only a minutes ago. “Taken to sleeping on the couch.”

“No.”

“Oh,” he mouthed. He looked around my room with a curious air, but luckily for me nothing seemed out of place. “You know I envy you, Gabriel.”

“You do?”

“A house to yourself. Comfortable bachelor. You don’t have to deal with my wife.”

“You shouldn’t envy me Carl.”

“Oh, but I do,” he said rather sharply. “I’d come live with you, but I know you’d never allow it.”

“I wouldn’t,” I said with a tinge of a smile.

“My wife wouldn’t either. She’d probably kill me first.” He laughed to himself quietly, obviously finding humour in his grave situation. “But you’re looking rather well, Gabriel. What exactly happened between last night and this morning?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Something about your face,” he contemplated aloud. “Like your trying to hold back a smile.”

I raised an eyebrow at him, hoping that would disprove his theory.

“Katrina, eh?” he asked. “All this time I’ve known you and you never mentioned her.”

“There was never any need of it.”

“Need?” he echoed in a mocking tone of voice. “You should have saw your face.”

“It has been a long time…”

“Yes, yes,” he mumbled in a low voice. “A long time for the both of you.” Carl looked over to his left, lifting up the heavy blankets to throw it over his cold legs. “Blankets rather warm too,” he observed aloud. “You haven’t been drinking again, have you? Found yourself sleeping on the couch.”

“I slept in my bed.” I stood directly in front of him with my hands over my hips, letting my fingers rub over the smooth beige trousers I was currently wearing.

“And drinking?”

“Not a drop.”

“No smoking either,” he noted. “I don’t smell it on you.” He patted his hands over the tops of his thighs, and then wistfully leaned back on the couch with a comfortable air about him. “So, what exactly did you do?”

“Do?”

“To get over it.”

“I went to bed.”

“Bed,” he gibed. “If that’s your little secret its alright with me.” He shrugged his shoulders at me playfully. “I should try it sometime, maybe even kick my wife out of bed.”

“Carl you should go home,” I remonstrated. “I am perfectly fine.”

“Then why are you still standing there?”

I let out a deep sigh, and then strolled away from him until I was standing in the connected hallway that would lead to the dining room. Carl watched me attentively, sensing something was off about me but he couldn’t put a finger on it.

“Your going to see her, aren’t you? Katrina?”

“No,” I bellowed out in a deep tone of voice.

“I know you.”

“I’m not.”

“Oh?”

“I gave you an answer, Carl,” I snarled at him. “I’m not interested in seeing her.”

“Well, you better hope her husband doesn’t either.” He let out a menacing chuckle as he added, “French sympathizer.”

“There is a danger to looking at the war from one side.” I walked over to him as I contemplated aloud, “But the stories of war are always written out by the victors.”

“Since when did you care about the French?”

“They are human beings, Carl. They are no different than us.”

“I didn’t hear you say that when we slaughtered them on the field.”

“That is because it was either us or them.”

“Aye,” he sighed. “Your words are true.” He pushed the blankets off himself and slowly rose to his feet. “But I wouldn’t have said it in front of the Admiral. He will never forget you, or the look his wife gave you.”

“He better,” I growled. “I don’t want to see her again.”

“She was awfully pretty,” Carl deliberated aloud. “I wouldn’t object.”

I snarled at him and then crossed my arms to show my displeasure.

“I should be off then.” Carl offered me half a smile as his own way of apology. “I’m glad you are looking better… why you’re almost glowing.” He saw the way I bit down on my lip with regret. “Are you sure you don’t want to tell me that cure you took last night. Drugs? Sex? What was it?”

“It’s time for you to leave.”

“Oh,” he blurted out. “Did I stumble on something.”

“Out.”

He was walking backwards, half fearful when I so easily towered over him. He knew he had touched a sensitive spot, and was now determined to get it out of me.

“There’s no harm in telling me, you know.”

“It was me getting over Katrina,” I lied. “Now it is time for you to go home.” My old friend sulked as he put on his winter clothing, giving me a look that silently pleaded for an answer.

“I won’t have to worry about you, will I?” He pulled down his hat to cover his ears, his eyes looking at me entreatingly. “I know you don’t talk about it, but it took a lot out of you to come out of that addiction.”

“There were no drugs or alcohol involved last night.”

“Well, that’s a relief.” Carl unexpectedly pulled me in for a hug, and I stood there, stiff underneath his tight grip. “You’re the only friend I have,” he told me, once he released his grip. “I just want you to be careful, that’s all.”

“I’m fine.”

“Yeah, your more than fine,” he jeered, and then pulled up his hood to cover his face completely. “I’ll see you later on this week.”

“To be sure.”

My old comrade nodded his head in acceptance, and then silently left me without another look back. I closed the door softly behind him, wondering how he could sense a change in me. I immediately went to a small looking glass in the drawing room, opening a silver case to peak at my reflection. I looked the same, but there was something different about my eyes; they seemed lighter than before- happier.

* * *

“Do your friends often stop by unexpectedly?”

Burnham was breaking a roll of bread when she asked this question, her dark skin glowing wondrously under the candlelight. She was wearing the same black uniform, and I made a mental note to buy her some new clothes tomorrow.

“From time to time, but only Carl is allowed that privilege.”

“The two of you are close?”

“He is the closest friend I have,” I revealed. “Samuel as well, but the relationship is different with him. He is often very frank with me, and for that reason we often end our night in an argument.”

“Like the last time he was over.”

“Exactly.” I sipped on the small glass of water, finding it odd that there should be no wine present. I shot a glance at Burnham, wondering if she knew I was catching on to her game. She was currently sawing her knife into her roast beef, cutting it small enough to enjoy her dinner at leisure. I watched her with attentiveness, feeling a warm elated feeling at the bottom of my stomach.

“You are not eating?” she asked with anxiety. “You don’t like it?”

“I was looking at you.” She let her utensils fall on the side of her plate as she looked at me. “I think I’m falling in love with you.”

She lowered her gaze with a smile, and then lifted her chin upwards to level her gaze with me.

My jaw tightened at the realization, and then fear quickly overwhelmed me. “But I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I…” She reached her hand forward and laid it over mine, smoothing it up and down till it touched the smooth ridges of my wrist. “Michael?”

“Yes.”

“I’m scared,” I voiced aloud. “I think… I know it will change everything.”

“It will.”

“And you’re not worried about that?”

“No, Gabriel.” Her eyes were shining beautifully as she added, “I think its perfect.”

I let out a shudder of a sigh after she released her hand from me, taking up her fork to continue her meal again. She appeared calm in the midst of the storm that my mind had created; the awareness of the depths of my feelings for her had suddenly put me on edge. My food must have gone cold as I watched her, wondering when these feelings really began. _She’s becoming everything to me._

I rose out of my chair, walking along the side of the table till I reached her chair on the opposite end; Michael watched me, laying her utensils down with worry. “Gabriel?”

I took a hold of her to pull her out of her chair, laying a hand on the side of her head to stare deep into her eyes. I felt speechless under her arresting gaze, so I simply leaned in to kiss her lips fervently. She responded in kind, taking a hold of me with sudden energy. I kissed her long and hard, brushing my fingers all down her form as I took her in. The feeling at the bottom of my stomach grew worse, like I was on a high that would never end. “You’re sleeping with me tonight,” I told her.

“I know I am.”

“Good,” I barked out from the corner of my mouth, and then tilted my head downwards to nip at her neck possessively. “As long as you know.”

* * *

I was walking along the docks, taking in the frozen river with a sheet of ice and snow overtop. The wind was chilling here, so I laid my gloved hand over the black railings and descended the icy steps that would take me closer to the water.

There were voices up ahead, so I knew I was in the right place. It wasn’t the native language of the French or the British, but something else entirely. I removed my hood, not wanting to appear a threat to these people. I raised my hat higher up on my forehead as well, ignoring the chilling winds blowing against my face as I heard the strange dialect. I turned the corner of the brick wall and saw the small encampment I was expecting, the brown-skinned men stood up, black eyes staring at me with suspicion. “Afternoon,” I called out, and raised up both of my arms to show that I was unarmed. “I was looking for an old friend… Samuel.” They continued to stare at me, giving nothing away. Long fishing rods were held tightly in their hands, while one of them tried to cover up the booty they had already taken from the river. “He goes by another name here… ummm… Isekemu.”

The men looked at each other, and then silently agreed to speak to the stranger standing in front of him. “You know him?” one man asked, with short dark hair and a cleanly shaven face.

“I fought with him in the war.”

“Isekemu left us an hour ago. He went to repair a boat.”

“Could you lead me to him.”

The man gave me the appropriate directions, and after I had him repeat it to me two times, I left the small party. They were on their guard, rightfully so, there had been a long hard history between English men and the native Indians belonging to this land. They began to talk again as I walked up the short flight of stairs, probably deciding to move from this spot since I was able to find them so easily. The police would not be kind to see them fishing in these waters, a fact of life that these people were slowly adapting themselves too.

It took me a little over ten minutes to find the place, an open shed with a long canoe that Samuel was currently inspecting. It looked uncommonly old, and I saw the way his eyes sparkled at the rough planks of wood he felt with his bare hand. His mood was so well off, that he greeted me with enthusiasm, introducing me to the man that had currently hired him for the boat repair. “I can spare five minutes,” he informed me, and led me away from the open shed into the outdoors where snowflakes were currently descending from the grey heavens. “You came here for a reason, so…”

“I need your help.”

“It’s about that girl, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” I breathed out quickly. “You’re the only one I can come too.”

“What is it?” He leaned against the wooden banisters that overlooked the icy white sea below, his eyes darkening with worry.

“I don’t want her to get pregnant.”

“That was fast.”

“I need you to give me something, so… I can give it to her.”

“I don’t have it.”

“Sam, wait!” I took a hold of his arm in desperation, seeing he was ready to leave. “I can’t have her be pregnant.”

“Then don’t sleep with her anymore.”

“Sam.”

“Who I’m kidding, she might already be pregnant.” He stuffed his hands in his tarnished moose skin jacket, and pulled out gloves of a similar material. “I can’t help you, Gabriel.”

“I know you don’t like the idea, but please… if not for me.”

“Does she want it?”

“I…” My cheeks sucked in to reveal my betrayal.

“You are doing it without her knowledge.”

“I thought it best-”

“-you liar!” he shouted out. “I will not help you.”

“Please, Sam,” I nearly begged, and took a hold of both of his arms to get him to stay. “I will give you money! You want that, don’t you?”

“I will not be paid to kill a child.”

“I will give you anything you want.” I pulled him closer to my chest, leaning my face forward in an effort to intimidate him. “What do you think will happen when people find out?”

“They will think you got the girl pregnant, and move on,” he answered me back with a hard shove. “And so should you! I warned you about it and-”

“-she wanted it too.”

“Oh, of course she did.”

“She did!” I exclaimed. “I never forced her. Please, Sam, help me just this once.”

“Why do you think I will have something?”

“Because you are the only one I can ask,” I quickly replied. “What do you think will happen if I go to a doctor and ask for it… like they would ever give me anything.” I gripped hard at his sleeve as I added, “Your people must have something-”

“-my people,” he cut in.

“Natural remedies,” I remonstrated. “Something she can take to stop it.”

“You sicken me, Gabriel.”

“I know you have something!”

“I don’t,” he argued back, and flung my arm off him with disgust. “Go home, Gabriel.”

“If you find something will you tell me!” I yelled out, as he made his way back to his shed. “Sam!”

“Go home!” he yelled over his shoulder, and kicked at a thick pile of snow in anger before he walked out of my view.

“Ugh,” I groaned, and then turned to slam both of my hands down on the railings in misery. “What am I going to do?” I worriedly asked aloud. _I’m lost,_ I thought, and decided it was best to go home and give the matter a second thought. “Michael will kill me.”


	16. Anger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel thought he was ready for the consequences, but even he is not prepared for the outlash he will have to face from Michael Burnham.

By the time I found Burnham she was on her knees, her hands dipped deep into the barrel of water where she was currently washing my bedsheets. “Gabe!” she said with excitement, and quickly flung the white sheets away so she could get back on her feet. She rubbed her hands down at the front of her uniform, making it dry before she pulled me in for an embrace. Her lips slammed on the side of my cheek; her arms wrapped around me lovingly. “You came home early.”

“I’m going back out soon.”

“Oh,” she uttered out with sadness, and then released her hold around me slightly.

“I have to see my eye doctor.”

“Yes… of course.”

“I came home only to change,” I relayed, and looked down at my shabby outfit that I put on to visit Samuel.

“Will you be home for dinner?”

“A little bit later than that,” I answered her in a thin voice, while I was most careful to avoid her eyes.

“Is everything alright?”

I smiled at her, though it was a fake one. “I’m fine.”

She nodded her head with understanding, and then let her arms slide down the sides of my arms. Her eyes were downcast as she stepped away from me, and then returned to cleaning the sheets as if I was no longer in the room. “I can’t get the blood out,” she shot out with respite. “I’m sorry, but… I am doing everything I can.”

“Just throw it out!” I answered her, as I turned the side of my body away from her. “I’ll go out and buy another one.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” I turned my head away from her in embarrassment, hating the awful proof that I took away her virginity.

“It’s the only thing that is ruined,” she murmured in a soft voice.

“And how are you feeling?” I asked as I continued to gaze at the blank white wall in front of me. “Anymore soreness or pain?”

“No, I’m better now.”

“I’ll give you sometime to rest tonight,” I deliberated aloud. “You can sleep in your own room, if you’d like.”

“Thank you,” she hushed softly. The sound of water spurting downwards into the bucket was heard as she wringed the bedsheet out. “I’ll spend the night with you though.”

“You will?”

“Yes.” She continued to wring the water out of the blanket, her hands squeezing the very life out of the thin white sheet to show her strength. “Do you know what time you will be home? I want to make sure dinner is ready.”

I gave her an approximate time for her to expect me back, and then left her to go upstairs and change. Doctor Palmer was always an observant one, so it would be best to be on my guard. It did not take me long to change into more suitable clothing, and soon I was descending the stairs where Burnham was waiting for me at the foot of the staircase. She wiped the back of her arm across her forehead, looking hot and sweaty from her day’s exertion. Burnham was all smiles when I finally stood in front of her, nodding her head at the faint rose-coloured waistcoat I was currently wearing. She fondled the bottom of my white sleeves, taking in the exquisite detail with wonder.  “You dress well,” she observed aloud. I answered her by laying a gentle kiss over her lips, suddenly wishing I didn’t have to leave her alone in the house for so long. “I’ll be home soon,” I promised her, and then left her with a lingering kiss before I made my way to the front door.

* * *

Doctor Palmer was unusually quiet as he did his routine checkup, it wasn’t until his assistant left us that he gave me a cunning look. His right hand rubbed underneath his chin, falling down the length of his neck as he piped up, “So how is the girl?”

I shrugged on my winter coat, throwing him a look of irritation so he could drop the matter entirely.

“I know you weren’t shopping for your sister.” I buttoned up my coat in front of him, narrowing my eyes slightly as I did each button one by one. “The store is too fine for one thing, and another you are usually out shopping for your nephew. Benjamin, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“So, who is this special woman?” he taunted.

“It’s no one.”

“Oh, come on Gabriel!” he exclaimed. “I’m a smarter man than that.” I placed my wide brimmed hat firmly over my head and made a show that I was quite finished with him. “You’re not the first to gain a sweetheart,” he taunted. “Bring her around sometime! I’m sure my wife would love to have tea with her.”

“Thank you for the offer, Arthur, but there is no one to meet I’m afraid.”

“Oh, you got your heart broken already,” he teased, and then laid a hand over my shoulder as he led me out the door. “You’re a good-looking lad, Gabriel! Give it some time, and a young woman will gladly take up the offer. You’re a General, after all! A man that served his King and country.”

He stayed with me as I walked down the hallway, ignoring the long line of patients that were sitting outside of his door. “You’ll win the girl back.”

“Thank you for your support.”

“Anytime, General,” he rapped out in a cheery voice, and then let his arm fall off my shoulder so I could leave him. “See you in a few weeks!” he yelled out, and then ushered in his next patient to continue with the rest of his day. The hallway was thankfully dim as I walked down the last of it, but the second I stepped out the front doors into the frosty air, I was immediately blinded by the white lights coming from the steel grey sky. I pulled the brim of my hat lower over my eyes, hoping to block out the light as I trudged through the snow. It wasn’t snowing for once, and the wind was thankfully not as chilling as before. Dusk was fast approaching, and already the clouds darkened with expectation. I was still troubled by the idea of Burnham possibly being pregnant, a natural conclusion considering how many times I slept with her over the last two days. Perhaps, if I was able to control myself none of this would have ever happened. I was ashamed of what I had become, a man who had trouble holding himself accountable to his actions. _And what if I find something to stop the pregnancy, would that make things better for us?_ I felt it was a useless strip of cloth used to cover up a gapping wound, a remedy that could only solve our temporary problems. The bigger issue, of course, was my romantic entanglement with someone who was my slave. She wasn’t even a free slave, as if that would make anything different. The laws of the land are clear: Burnham was a slave and if she gave birth to our child, they would become a slave too. “Even if they are my own flesh and blood,” I murmured into the wind, and found myself growing angry at the notion. “Damn them,” I cursed. “Damn all of them.”

By the time I reached my front door I was beyond furious, and found the door slamming behind me to be most appropriate. I threw off my hat and tossed it to the floor, not bothering to hang it up like I normally do. The house was silent, an annoyance for me; I grumbled under my breath as I bent down to untie my boots, startled to see another pair leaned up against the wall. I reached forward and then halted, and then continued again until I could pick up the thick animal-skinned boots. _Samuel’s here._

“Burnham!” I yelled out and forego taking off my boots so I could find the man at once. “Burnham!”

She immediately came out of the kitchen entranceway, startled to hear the anger residing in my voice. She was on her toes running towards me, a look of fear in her eyes.

“Where is he?” I demanded, once I took a hold of her hand. “Tell me now!”

“I’m right here,” Samuel answered me, while half of his body leaned out of the kitchen entranceway.

I let go of Burnham’s hand, steadily approaching the man that was now a threat to me. “What did you tell her?” I demanded. “What did you say?” My chest heaved with worry, I darted my eyes between Samuel and the woman I loved, fearing the worst. “For God’s sakes, Samuel! What did you tell her?”

“It is not for me to tell.”

I wanted to strike him down, silence him from ever telling Burnham the things I would have done to protect our child- to protect _us_.

“Gabriel?” Burnham asked, her sweet- sounding voice fraughted with nervousness. “What is it?”

“It’s nothing!”

Samuel took a step-in front of me, his dark eyes looking at me entreatingly. “I came to speak to you, and that’s all.”

“You came into my house when I wasn’t home.”

“Something I’ve done before.”

“But not with Burnham,” I reminded him in a stern tone of voice. “From now on, you are not allowed in the house until I am present.”

“There’s no need to get so angry-”

“-I have every need!” I bellowed out with a sharpness to my voice.

Samuel could sense my anger and held his arms out defensively. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Why are you here?” I sighed aloud, as I did my best to control my temper. “Why did you come?”

“We should speak alone,” he suggested, and looked over my shoulder to catch a glimpse at Burnham. “Unless you want her to know.”

“My office,” I rapped out, and turned around only to see Burnham blocking the door. “Burnham, move!”

“What are you hiding from me?” she exclaimed with lowered eyebrows. Her voice had unbelievable strength to it, her eyes hard as slab of stone as she stared at me. “I know it concerns me.”

“Not anymore.”

“Gabe,” she warned, and held out her hand to let it hover just over my chest. She bit down on her bottom lip, and suddenly her eyes went softer with sadness. “Please don’t do this.”

“I just… want to protect you.”

“Then tell me,” she exclaimed. “Tell me what I need to do.”

“It’s…” I looked over my shoulder, catching the bitterness betrayed by Samuel’s eyes. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does,” she remonstrated, enough to pull my gaze back onto hers. “I know it does.”

“I only want what’s best for you,” I yelled out, startled by how loud my voice was raised.

“Haven’t you ever thought… that _I_ might know what’s best for me.” She shook her head with disappointment. “I thought that you were different, Gabriel, but you treat me like the rest.”

“I treat you as my _equal._ ”

“Then tell me!” she frantically screamed out. “Prove me wrong.”

“If you trust me enough… love me enough… then let me pass.”

She shook her head again, faster this time with eyes that were quickly swelling up with tears. She moved aside suddenly, leaning her head against the wall in silent defeat. “You’re no better than the rest,” she muttered, as I walked on by.

“I am doing this for us,” I said over my shoulder. My steps were heavy against the hardwood floor, my gait slower than usual as the last of her words haunted me. I stopped in my tracks, and then turned around to see her leaning against the wall. A large gap stretched between us, but the way she looked at me was tearing me up inside. There was so much soulfulness to her eyes, I had noticed that from the start. A deep sigh escaped me, and then I trudged my way back to her with my boots scraping the ground. I stood in front of her, crossing my arms against my chest to maintain my dominance. Samuel could be seen in the corner of my eye, still lingering in the kitchen as he felt out of place. Burnham took a step forward to grab my attention; her lips slightly parted as though she wanted to say something.

“I went out this morning to find Samuel,” I explained. “I was hoping he could help me, but…” I looked over to my left to see his expression was still the same as before. “… he refused.”

“What did he refuse?”

“I fear you might be pregnant,” I hushed. “I was hoping to get rid of it.”

Her face was stony, but her eyes revealed her inner brokenness. I felt as cold as ice the longer I looked at her, seeing her reaction was worst than I could ever imagine. “And when were you going to tell me?”

“I wasn’t.”

“And… how exactly were you going to do it?”

“I thought…” I lowered my head in shame, and then grievously added, “Thought they would be a natural medication to take… one that you were unaware of.”

“So, I didn’t even have a choice.”

“No,” I breathed out from the back of my throat, and then immediately cleared my throat to get my voice back. “You understand why I want to do it, don’t you?” I laid a hand on the side of her arm as I added, “I can’t _lose_ you, Burnham.”

“You already have.”

“No,” I answered her with a sharp shake of the head. “No, that’s not true.”

She took her hand and removed my own with force and took a large space back to create some space.

“You know how much it will cost us,” I demanded. “What do you think will happen if I’m right?”

“It’s too soon to tell.”

“But it’s a possibility!” I argued back. “And then what will you do?”

“You don’t see anything wrong with this,” she rebutted. “You were going to do this without my knowledge. Why, your no better than the slave owners that tell me what to do and where to go!”

“I am nothing like them.”

“You are _exactly_ like them!” she argued back with her finger pointing in front of my chest. “You think you can do whatever you want with my body without me knowing about it, and think that its okay.”

“I was trying to protect you.”

“Protect me?”

“Protect you from the accursed world outside these walls that want nothing but to see you and I fall.”

“You were protecting _yourself!_ ”

I took a step back, caught off guard by the sharpness of her tongue. “I don’t think you should be speaking to me like that.”

She crossed her arms, lowering her gaze so that I couldn’t see the whites of her eyes anymore.

“I am not like those men,” I repeated. “I want nothing but your happiness.”

“You care for no one but yourself, _sir._ ”

There it was, that word again and I knew those brief days of happiness had been shattered in two. “When are you going to see that I only want what’s _best_ for you? I know you love being right, but for once in your life can you trust that I am doing the right thing! I’m older than you, seen things that you could have never possibly imagined. You go out there with _my_ child, and what do you think will happen?”

“Why is it only your child?”

“Because you are my slave, Burnham! Or do I have to spell it out for you?”

She shook her head in anger, upset that I should ever speak to her this way.

“There will come a day,” she sighed. “A day when I won’t have to answer to you, or anyone for that matter. I’ll be a _free_ woman.” Her voice went deeper as she continued, “If not me, then maybe for my child.”

“You’re not having it.”

“I am.”

“I’m not letting you do it.”

“Why? Are you afraid you will go on trial? Afraid of your _precious_ reputation?”

“Who exactly are you talking too?” I bellowed out, taking on my military persona without ever realizing it.

“The same man that talks of killing off an unborn child!” she shot back. “If I knew you would have done this, I would have never gone to bed with you!”

“Fine!”

“Good!” she shot back. She tried to walk away from me, but I quickly stopped her with a hold on her arm.

“Where are you going?”

“Upstairs.”

“You’re not thinking of leaving, are you?”

“I’m not sure what I’m doing,” she fretted with a fierceness to her voice. She pushed my hand down with a violent gesture. “Only that I want to be away from you.”

“Excuse me.” I jerked my head back, giving her a look of scrutiny for her even saying that to me.

“I thought you were a good man… but I was _wrong_.”

“You were,” I jeered, and then let her go. “Go to your room, Burnham, and think about how right I am!” I watched her walk up the stairs with my hands over my hips, furious that she could not see the things the way I did. I turned around once she went out of my sight, only to see Samuel staring at me with his wholesome morals and all. “What do you want?”

“You just took away something that could have been beautiful.” He walked past me and made his way to the front door where his boots were.

“You still think I’m wrong?”

“I think she loves you, and you just broke her heart.” He was rushing to put on his boots, to angry to be in my presence any longer. “And I feel sorry for her.”

“I don’t want your sympathy… and neither does she.”

“I came here to try and change your mind, but it seems like I’m too late.” He saw the way I lowered my eyes, still not fully convinced by my own idea to get rid of the child. “You will lose her if you do that.”

“She will have to stay with me.”

“She will,” he agreed, after the last of his boot was put on. “But that doesn’t mean she’ll like it.” He smirked at me before he added, “Do you know what its like to live with a woman who despises you?” A soft chuckle escaped him, and then he held his hand over the doorknob as he offered one final word: “Ask Carl! I’m sure he has a lot of stories to tell.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been trying to hold back Mirror Lorca for a while now, but the dark side of his personality has finally come out. We will have to see how Michael deals with it, and what she plans to do next...


	17. The Path

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a path that must be chosen, and Gabriel has to decided whether he wants to continue his relationship with Burnham or not.

A bowl of porridge was placed in front of me, and then Burnham took a quiet step back. She was avoiding my eyes still, her head always downcast whenever she entered the same room as me. She would not be taking her breakfast with me today.

“I thought I told you I don’t like porridge,” I barked out, and then slid the large black bowl away from me. Burnham was silent under my heated gaze; I felt the right side of my jaw jutting out in ill humour. I rose myself to my feet slowly, standing up proud and tall before her. “How long will you continue this way?”

She made no reply, her lips pursed tightly with every effort to hold back her tongue.

“Answer me!”

“As my master commands,” she stated in a thin voice. “Would you like a different breakfast?”

“How long do you intend on avoiding me?”

She raised her chin with pride, her large brown eyes looking into mine daringly. There was a strength in her look, but also pain- unspeakable pain.

“Answer me.”

“I want you to let me go,” she answered me in a loud tone of voice.

“I have answered your question before on this subject matter.”

“I want you to let me go.”

“I’m not letting you.”

She looked away from me, setting her sad-like eyes over the darkened drapes that covered the window. You would have never known it was morning, not when the dining room was cast in unspeakable darkness.

“Get me a different breakfast,” I barked out and pushed the bowl away from me. “You know I can’t have that.”

She stood where she was, ignoring my statement. I saw how she swallowed down hard, the way the lids of her eyes batted painfully.

“Burnham.”

“Sir?”

“I can’t let you have that child.”

“You can,” she said in a fragile-like voice.

“I…” My chair was pushed in and I tiredly sat down upon it. “Is it too early for something to drink?” I joked, and then leaned back into my seat with closed eyes. “Burnham, do you know what horrors we’ll face if I let this happen?”

“ _I,_ ” she rapped out. “Why must it always be about you?”

“Because I am the one that will have to face the consequences.”

“Your wrong!” she shouted out. “I will.”

“We both will.”

“A white man will never have the face the things I face, Gabriel. You speak of unspeakable horrors, but you have know idea what it is like for my people. To be whipped and beaten… to be afraid.” She came closer to the table, her fingers wrapping around the front of the chair in agony. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be pregnant, if what you fear will ever happen.” She tilted her head downwards as she continued, “But what I do know is that I love you, and it pains me to think about what you have done… what you are _willing_ to still do.” She lifted her head, staring into my eyes as she added, “You claim you are a godly man, then let fate decide for itself what it should be.”

“It will only tear us apart.”

“Or it could bring us closer,” she argued back. “How can we never know until we try?”

My shoulders hunched over in defeat, feeling her words were true. A small sigh escaped me; a lower of my left eyebrow as I glared at my bowl of porridge. I tilted my head downwards and then rested it in the palm of my hand, feeling the weight of world resting upon my shoulders. “You could lose your life to this-”

“-then let me lose it,” she interjected, and then I suddenly felt a warm touch on the front of my hand that was still resting on the table. She curled her hand around mine, bringing the depths of her feelings forward as she tightly held my hand in hers. “Let me, Gabriel.”

“Very well,” I hushed, and sharply turned my head so I could not look at her anymore.

“Thank you,” she whispered, and then I felt her lips press firmly down on my forehead. Her fingers were felt next, brushing the sides of my hair away from my face with gentle movements. “Thank you.”

“Let fate decide for itself,” I conceded. “You came into my life for a reason… and perhaps, I will learn exactly why.”

“To make you bowls of porridges,” she teased.

“I’ve been rude, I know,” I acknowledged aloud. “I treated you no better than my soldiers.”

“Worse,” she sneered, and then drew her hand out of my hair as punishment. “I expect an apology.”

“I am sorry for my behaviour yesterday evening… and this morning.”

She tightened her grip around my hand and hushed, “Apology accepted.”

Burnham laid a hand over the center of my back, brushing it softly as she stared at the top of my head. Her eyes were squinted with happiness, enough to bring tears forth in her eyes.

“You understand that I was just scared, don’t you?” I shook my head fretfully as I added, “God! I still am.”

“So am I, Gabriel.”

“We can keep this a secret, but for how long?” I shrugged my shoulders with distress as I mused aloud, “I can move away, but where too? No where is safe, they will always see you as a negro.”

“But you don’t.”

“No, I don’t,” I assented, and titled my head upwards so that she knew I wanted to kiss her. Burnham was quick to respond, laying her lips over mine. I kissed her eagerly, realizing it had been sometime since I tasted those delicious lips of hers, overcome by the scent of her that delighted me more than once. I pushed my chair back eagerly, settling her over my lap so we continue this little game. Michael had her arms wrapped around me for support; the sounds of our desperate kisses ignited the air. She had forgiven me, and I felt that I had not deserved such love or attention from her. “I behaved terribly,” I fretted aloud, and she was quick to silence me with another kiss. “Forgive me.”

“I already have,” she assured me, and forced my head to lean back on the chair as she burrowed her lips against my own. I drew my hand through her thick curls, tangling and weaving my fingers inside of it to massage the back of her scalp. She was kissing me so eagerly, my Burnham, and I knew her love for me was deeper than we had ever expected.

“I’ll protect you at all costs,” I promised her, after she inched her head away to take a breath.

“I know you will.”

“With my life,” I stated, and laid a hand over my heart to prove it. “To my last breath.”

“Gabriel,” she scolded.

“I swear it.”

She laid a hand over mine, pressing weight down upon my chest that was settled over my heart. “Then protect our child too.”

I nodded my head slightly in agreement, and with parted lips I breathed out, “I will.”

* * *

I was in my office space, my knees pressed firmly to the floor as I opened a wooden case. I took out a familiar weapon, a revolver I used during the war. In the faint candlelight I could still see the familiar nicks over the handle; I felt slightly relieved to see no stains of blood; the area had been deftly clean. I rose to my feet, pointing the weapon dead center to the wick of the candle, knowing if I pulled the trigger it would hit the target. A faint howl, the screams of the dead echoed in my ears; the pumping of the weapons whistling through the air, like cracks of explosions as it escaped the barrow. I lowered the weapon, knowing I was still haunted by the war. My nightmares had lessoned, but that did not mean those horrible memories were gone forever. I could still see their faces calling out for help, cries of mercy before I plunged my dagger into them. I did what was necessary for my country- my King, so why did I still feel so ashamed of it?

There was a knock on the door, and I told Burnham to come in before I could safely store away the weapon. She looked at me with a tinge of concern, seeing me place the revolver down on the center of the table. “I was just looking at it,” I relayed with a somewhat guilty look.

“Why?” she boldly asked and made sure to close the door softly behind her.

“In case I have to use it.”

“You won’t.”

“Will see.” I ignored her presence, and simply loaded the weapon with one bullet at a time. “Hopefully it will never come to it.”

“Its for me, isn’t it?”

“To protect you, then yes.” I placed the loaded weapon in a safely concealed box and closed the lid with a loud thud. “I’ll keep it somewhere near the front door… just in case.”

“You don’t have to do this.”

I turned my back to her and opened a small casket where I kept my tobacco. Burnham was silent as she watched my stuff my wooden pipe, making no sounds of reproach when I considered lighting it in front of her. She was dressed in the same black uniform again, her hands clutching on the mail the post man must have dropped off for us. It must have been urgent if it was delivered to my door, but I set it aside until Michael was gone. “I wish I could take you out for lunch,” I mused aloud. “There is a nice place where they make grilled garlic shrimp and-”

“-you love seafood,” she laughed.

“I grew up by the shore, of course I do.”

“Did you ever fish?”

“From time to time,” I admitted. “Though it was more with some friends from school then anything else. My father… he never really had the time.”

“At least you remember your father,” she mused aloud. “I can’t remember anything.”

“Nothing at all?” She interlaced her fingers together and settled it over her mid-section, looking lost for a moment. “Lord Sarek was like a father to me.”

“Your first master?”

“In a way, yes, but… it was only because I was given to them at so young an age. From the time I could walk I was their slave, it’s the only life I’ve ever known.”

“And now, I offer you another.” I stretched out my hand, entreating her to place hers in mine. My lips decorated the back of her hand, endowing her with kisses till she let out a small giggle. “I’ll make you happy, Burnham.”

“I’ll hold you too it,” she warned. She let her hand slip away, still feeling slightly uneasy from our argument we had yesterday. It felt strange not talking to her last night, settling a small plate of food outside of her door for dinner before I retired for the night. Sleep had not come too me, and by the small bags under her eyes I felt she had suffered the same fate. I snuck downstairs last night for something to drink and found she had still hidden my bottles of alcohol from the night of the party. I had half a mind to ask her about it, but then I figured it was for the best. “Gabe?” she asked, once she realized I was lost in thought.

“I was just thinking, Burnham.”

“I’ll let you be then,” she quietly offered, and then walked towards the doorway to leave my office space.

“Michael?”

Yes?”

“I’m glad things are better…” I straightened my back as I continued, “… between us.”

“I’ve had a hard life,” she confessed. “But meeting you, that has been the best moment so far.”

“I will say the same.” I pointed at the wooden box where my revolver was stored. “All my life I have had to fight- to be a man I never truly wanted to be, but I have accepted that fate. When I look at you…” I rounded the table to stand before her. “… you keep reminding me of the man that I’m _supposed_ to be.”

“A better man,” she finished for me.

“A better one.”

A small smile spread across her face, and with one last look she left me.

* * *

It was warmer outside today, a light fog descended over the street where I lived. I was outside with a shovel in my hand to push snow away from my front doorway. Dusk was again settling upon the small city where I lived, the sounds of horses trotting along the street was the only real sound I could make out. I knew Michael was finishing off our dinner, a promise of salmon gave me something to look forward too.

I thought the space between us would give me time to think, and the recent news of my nephew’s deathly illness was hitting me hard. _My poor sister,_ I thought, and felt I was helpless to comfort her when I was on the other side of the world.

I was homesick, I knew, but I had sailed to this foreign land for a reason. My intention was to attain land here, to live and then die upon the soil in which I worked my hands, so when I faced my enemies in battle three years ago, I thought I had finally met my fate- but I did not.

I could never forget where I came from, that small poor English man with a humble inheritance given to him after his father’s will was read. _And a broken heart too,_ I remembered, after Katrina had refused my offer of marriage. It was no wonder I enrolled in the military after I landed here. When all of your loved ones are dead and gone there is very little a man can fear when faced with death. Michael Burnham had changed all that, she had given me something too live for and I was forever grateful for that.

I stopped to catch my breath, leaning against the shovel as I stared into the impenetrable fog. The mysterious surroundings were an uncanny reflection to my own life. There was a path ahead of me that I feared to take, but I knew I must take it.

_I will start a family with her,_ I contemplated, and felt a sudden fear rise in my chest. I sharply turned my head to the front of my house, staring at this humble abode that was ours to share. Our secret was safe, but for how long no one could tell. I only knew I wanted to be with her, and I wanted her to be happy too.

The handle of my shovel was leaned against the wall of my brick house, and I pushed open the front door to step inside. The house smelled wonderful, showing I would have a delicious meal after all. My things were taken off quietly, soft socks pressing against the hardwood floor as I searched for Michael around the house. I found her sitting silently in the library with another world atlas in hand, except this one focused on the countries in Eastern Asia. “Have you ever been here?” she asked, eagerly pointing at the colourful map. I went on my knees beside her, wondering why she was cuddled up on the floor with her back leaning against the bookshelf.

“No.”

“I should like to go there,” she promptly responded. “I’d like to see so many things.”

“All around the world, I see.”

“And even beyond it, if I could.” She leaned her shoulder against my own as she pursued, “Could you imagine if we could go beyond the stars?”

“Into space?”

“To see the world beyond our own. The planets… the entire universe.”

“That’s impossible, Michael.”

“I know,” she laughed. I laid a kiss on the side of her cheek, and then strung my long arm around her until I could pull her into my frame. “I’d take you with me, Gabe.”

“That’s because you are not allowed to go anywhere without me.”

“Will you take me here?” she asked, and pointed at the atlas with a look of excitement.

“I’ll hire a boat and then we can go exploring.”

“Really?”

“No, Burnham.” She pouted at me, which made me burst out in laughter. “I’ll figure something out.”

“Its normal for a master to bring their slave.”

“It is,” I consented. “That is one less worry.”

“Is there anywhere around the world where I wouldn’t be considered one?”

“I’m not sure, Michael,” I sighed out with some regret.

“I only wish there was.”

I curled my hand over her shoulder blade, pressing my lip firmly along the sides of her temples where the sweet scent of her hair intoxicated me. “There may be some places more accepting to the fact that I love you.”

“You love me?” she drawled out with pleasure.

“I do, Burnham,” I assured her, and tilted my head in a way to show I intended to be kissed. She smiled at me slightly before she leaned in and performed her duty wonderfully.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this story touches on a lot of sensitive topics, so thanks for sticking with me.
> 
> \- petyrbaaaeeelish


	18. Presents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel and Michael spend a nice morning together. When he leaves his household, he ends up purchasing a few presents for Michael, but he is unprepared for her reaction when he gets back, for even the right intentions can sometimes get miscued.

“Shall we try it again?”

Burnham nodded her head eagerly, and I smirked at her as I offered her a low bow. She curtsy in her own way, finally mastering the art form before I reached for her hand.

“Hop, step, step,” I repeated, watching her mirror my movements as she learned the steps. Burnham was learning the dance fairly quickly. I kicked out my left foot, gracefully landing on my toes and waited for her to do the same. “Good,” I praised out to my dance partner, and I repeated the same steps as before to see her quickly follow. “Now normally our hands would part,” I told her, and we would walk to the end of the line with all airs and grace.” She snickered at my words, covering her mouth to block out the sound. “And then we would return to each other, and I would take your hand, you see.” I reached for both of her hands, standing on the tip of my toes as I outstretched my arms to the fullest. “And we switch positions, stepping on the tips of our toes, lightly hopping.”

“Gabe!” she laughed, watching my feet move in such a strange manner.

“You’re not moving, Burnham.” She covered her mouth as she repeated the same steps, and did her best to cover up that awful grin once she returned to her normal place. “Now, say if we were in a group of eight people sometimes we would split up; it could be in pairs like we were earlier, or a group of four.” I outstretched my hand, and asked of her to do the same. “We would repeat the same steps: step, step, hop, and if you want to add some flair you kick your left leg out and then the other.”

She hunched over in laughter now, enough for me to place my arms over my hips in annoyance. “Now, Burnham!”

“Is this how they really dance.”

“But of course they do!”

“But it doesn’t feel natural.”

“Its not supposed too,” I argued back. “It is meant to be complicated.”

“Je n'aime pas ça.” 

“I don’t care if you don’t like it.” I took a hold of her hands and outstretched them myself. “You’re going to learn.” 

“There isn’t even any music?” 

“We can make our own,” I told her, and then ordered her to hum a song. 

“I cannot hum a song,” she argued back, and then forced our hands downwards until she could step in my space. “Will you let me go, so I can read the book, Gabriel? It was so very interesting.” 

“I wanted to teach you the things of the world.” 

“Things I will never experience outside of these doors,” she reasoned.

“You know I could never go to a fancy ball like you.” She smiled at me sweetly, bringing my hand to her lips where she kissed the back of it. “S’ il vous plait, Monsieur.” 

“I should have never shown you that book.” 

She dropped my hands and took a hold of the side of my face instead, letting her fingers play with the short hairs just behind my ears. “Jaime cela!” 

“Oui,” I answered her with my English accent. “I know you do.” 

She prattled on in her native language as she continued: “Livere des merveilles du monde.” 

“Very well, Marco Polo it is,” I grunted, and she thanked me with a heavy kiss against my lips. I quickly grabbed a hold of her, sealing together our fate, and kissed her longer than she had ever intended. Tilting my head to the side, I kissed her lips lovingly, stroking my fingers along the sides of her ribs as I took more of her in. “I missed you last night,” I shuddered into the air. 

“I needed space.” 

“That didn’t mean I didn’t miss you,” I retorted, and then kissed her on the top of her forehead with affection. 

“I’ll join you tonight,” she assured me. She offered me a chaste kiss before she gracefully slipped out of my arms. “I thought you were going out shopping today.”  
  
“I am.” 

“You should go now,” she suggested. “And when you come back lunch should be ready.” 

“Unless you get caught up in that book again.”  
  
“I won’t,” she promised me, and with that she left the living room to prepare a hot meal for us. I watched her go mournfully, wishing she didn’t have to leave me like this. I followed her example; except I passed the kitchen doorway with a lingering look in her direction and then walked past it with heavy steps. The staircase felt unbearably long as I continued to separate myself from her, and only started to hop up the last of it once I realized I had a perfect opportunity to buy her a dress that wasn’t so black and drab looking. _A few presents will surely brighten her mood,_ I deliberated to myself, and quickly walked towards my room to find suitable clothes to change into. 

* * *

 When I was strolling through the shop I knew the clothes wouldn’t make her acceptable in society, it was no different than dressing up a monkey in western clothing. As harsh as it sounded it was the reality, they would take one look at her and yell out “Negro,” and question the very existence of such fine clothing for a woman like her. So, when I rubbed my hand down the coppery orange dress I felt a faint sense of sadness at the beautiful object, aware of how well it would dazzle off her dark complexion. I held up the dress, knowing she could never wear it outside of the house. _I’ll buy it anyways,_ I contemplated, and hung it over my arm with every worry of putting creases over it.  _If I took her to a ball she would be the most beautiful one there,_ I knew, with golden earrings dangling from her ears and sparkles adorning those fine wrists of hers. They would say she was an African princess of old, a world that existed before us western men invaded their country. 

I picked out a suitable dress for her to wear around the house daily, a long navy-blue dress with tiny details of gold down the sides of her arm in a decorative pattern. I knew she would take a liking to it immediately, so I went about to find a winter hat she could wear for tomorrow at church. I was half-way to the cash register when I spotted the women’s lingerie section, and found my top teeth biting down on my lower lip. “To hell with it,” I muttered, and sauntered over there with hungry eyes. There was a wide arrange of corsets to choose from, varying in appearances and materials to confuse me greatly. Burnham’s was worn out and breaking at the seams, so I could only assume she wore the same one everyday. It was light and wearable for work, but I thought I should get her something suitable to match the gorgeous dress I intended to buy for her. There was one rosy pink one, stitching of rose petals decorated the front of it and the outer lining was a dark ruddy red. I thought it would suit her well, and then explored the section more to find one that would go well with her new uniform. There was a comfortably thin one of a creamy colour, and I thought it would fit her well enough to take to the front register.

Too my annoyance it was the same cashier as a few days prior, her curly orange hair was something I could never forget. “Hello,” she greeted me in English. “Hello,” I grunted, and handed her the items for her to punch the rather expensive prices into the till. 

“Nice day,” she piped up with a shy look in her eyes. 

“Better than most.” She looked down on my hand, seeing there was no wedding band on my finger. I immediately placed my hands behind my back and wore a disastrously looking grimace once I realized she was judging me without ever realizing it. She held up the rose-coloured corset, and I noticed the look of envy that came across her face. “She’s very thin,” she observed aloud. I chose not to respond, and felt the stony lines traveling across my face was enough for her to keep her mouth quiet. “It’s very beautiful.” 

“Yes, well if you didn’t mind, I’m in quite a hurry.” 

“I’m sorry,” she quickly responded, and then reached forward to take a hold of the other corset. There was temptation to speak another thought aloud, but she refrained after she caught my scolding look. She was quiet when she took up the hat and navy-blue dress but the loud gasp had to escape her when she picked up the long coppery coloured dress. “God, look how it shimmers,” she confessed aloud, and held it out in front of her with amazement. “Its so beautiful. Oh, she is a very lucky woman.” 

I blinked at her, and then looked at the register with every intention of paying the handsome fee. 

“You really are kind, sir.” 

“If you can just give me the total amount.”

The young red-headed woman did as I commanded and punched in the fee with quick moments of her fingers. I held my breath at the total amount but pressed the money in the palm of her hand all the same.

“I bid you a good day, sir!” she called out to me, once I had finally left her. 

“Good day to you as well.” 

The girl that worked at the shop was correct about the weather, it was an uncommonly warm winter's day. The snow was melting slightly, enough for the icicles to be dripping water over the edges of the roof as I walked down the sidewalk. My hands were full of the heavy parcels of bags, my hat tilted low over my head to block out the bright light of the afternoon sun the best that I could. I was standing at a busy intersection as I waited to cross the street; a man stood beside me and uttered out my name. “It is you?” he laughed, and tilted his hat backward to take a better look at me. “Funny, the people you run into when its not a work day.” 

“Seamus.” 

“I see you’ve been out shopping,” he observed. “Lucky lady!” 

“You enjoying the weather,” I countered, hoping it would change the subject matter. My banker was a rather intelligent man, and knew my retired profession gave me enough money to purchase such items. _If only he knew the cost of it,_ I surmised, and waited patiently for his response. 

Seamus took a step forward seeing it was safe to cross the street. “Sure, sure,” he answered me with disinterest. “Though I’ll be spending most of it indoors visiting my addling mother.” 

“It’s nice that you have a mother still alive.” 

The young man scrunched up his face funnily, obviously disagreeing with my statement. “I suppose,” he replied in a soft tone of voice. “Well, I’m going this direction, so I will guess I will see you in a week or so.” 

“To be sure,” I retorted in a calm voice and watched him turn left, before I went the complete opposite direction. It would not bode well for people to find out I was in a romantic relationship, and hoped to god I could think of a scapegoat to get me out of this mess. It was with some great fortunate that I didn’t run into anyone else on the way home, that is until I was mounting the steps to my front door. “Hugh,” I acknowledge after he came down the narrow alleyway that joined my house with my neighbour. He looked half suspicious for a moment, probably surprised that I acknowledged him possibly for the first time ever. His hands were deep in his pockets- he almost looked to be hiding something. 

“General,” he replied, and offered me half a bow. 

“How is Monsieur Vasseur?” 

“He is fine,” he replied in English, though it sounded like a struggle for him. 

“I remember he hurt himself coming down the stairs,” I recalled aloud. “But he’s alright now, isn’t he?”

The man nodded his head at me, letting his eyes fall downwards till he took a note of the series of parcels and bags I held in both of my hands.

“Well, good afternoon then,” I surmised aloud, and set some of my items down on the cold floor to retrieve my keys. The man continued to stand there, looking like he wanted to say one last thing.

“Forgive me!” He tore his hands out of his pockets and walked towards the elevated ledge, where his chest just reached the high platform. “Forgive me,” he repeated. “Will Madame Burnham attend church tomorrow morning?” 

“Burnham?” I echoed in surprise. “Yes, as far as I know.” 

“Bien!” he exclaimed with happiness. “Good afternoon then, monsieur.”

He was gone in a flash, escaping back from the darkness of which he came with his hands deep inside of his pockets again. I grunted aloud once he was gone, jamming my key into the lock with jealousy with the hopes of not seeing that boy anytime soon. “Burnham!” I called out, the second I opened the damn door. “Where are you?” The door closed with a thud, and I immediately heard hurried footsteps coming from the library. “Did Hugh come visit you?” 

“Hugh?” she asked with surprise. “No!”

“Has he done so while I was gone.” 

“Never! That would be wrong, Gabriel.” I knew she was speaking from a professional point of view, and found she would always think like a slave, even when I didn’t want her too. 

“I bought you some presents,” I replied in a smooth tone of voice. “But I get a kiss before you see them.” 

“I don’t need anything,” she complained, but strode towards me either way. Her lips landed on mine, and I dropped the bags to lay both of my hand around the top of her spine. I moaned into her mouth gleefully, happy to taste her lips once again. She parted it after a few seconds, clearly not in the mood for anything further. “Can I look at them now, and then we have our lunch?” 

“Sure.” I waved my hand at her, ordering her to sit down on the comfy couch. “Go on! Open them,” I suggested after I took a seat close beside her. She looked like a child as she dug her hand through the boxes and bags, pulling out the long coppery coloured dress with a series of gasps and coos escaping her lips.

“Oh, Gabe!” she shrilled, and stood up on her feet to press the dress right against my chest. “Its exquisite.” 

“You like it?” 

“J’aime cela,” she coed. “Merci beucoup!”

She twirled around the living room with the long dress spinning in the air around her. “Vous êtes le bienvenu.” I answered her. Michael instantly fell on top of the couch, settling herself on top of me with the dress still in hand. She kissed my lips passionately, settling the dress on the ground as she crawled on top of me more. I wrapped my legs around her, letting my arms rest under her shoulder to lift her body higher up more. She kissed me once again, and I was beyond thrilled when she tilted her head downwards to get at the bottom of my neck. “I like the way you say thank you,” I taunted. She fisted my jacket, looking like she wanted to tear it off my frame. Our kisses grew hungrier once she returned to my lips again, her hands reaching downwards to pull at the bottom of my jacket to reach for the clothes underneath. I had so many layers on, unfortunately, it would take a while for her to reach any sort of skin. “Burnham,” I said in a sultry voice, rolling her over on the couch till I laid on top of her. She had less clothes than me, so I drew up the bottom of her dress to get at the woolen stockings underneath it. “I have to buy you silk ones,” I proposed aloud, and began to tear it down her long, lean legs with expectation. “I hope to god no one knocks on the door,” I fretted, and then went on my knees in front of her to see the partial skin exposed once her stockings were down to her knees. I drew her dress up slowly, catching the changing expressions in her eyes. 

“Gabe?” She asked with confusion, wondering why I settled down on my knees in front of her. 

“Put a pillow behind your back.” 

“What are you doing?” she asked, realizing I was staring at her womanhood, letting the edges of my thumb hover just over the opening. “Gabe, stop!” I heard her say, and then she pushed her dress down till I could see it no more. 

“Why?” 

“Because I don’t want you too.”  
  
“Why?” 

“Because,” she simply replied, and then kicked up her feet to show that she wanted me to get off her. 

“I don’t understand you,” I sulked, and then rolled off the couch till I could get at my feet. “What’s wrong with you?” 

“Me?” 

“Yes, you!” I let out a short grunt and countered, “It never bothered you before.” 

“ _Before,_ ” she repeated with meaning. “Yes, exactly.” 

“I thought we went past this.” 

“I forgave you, Gabriel, but I haven’t forgotten.” She lifted her ass off the couch to pull up the rest of her stockings, and before I even had a chance to change my mind she was walking out of the hallway. 

“Where are you going?” She never answered me as she stormed down the last of the hallway. “Michael!” The bathroom door slammed as a reply, and I cursed under my breath with frustration. I smacked the palm of my hands together, and then quickly went after her. 

“Please leave me alone,” she begged, after I knocked on the bathroom door. “Please!” 

“I want to talk to you.”

There was some rustling in the bathroom and then she opened the door with a trembling hand. “What was that about?” 

“I couldn’t do it!” she exclaimed. “I couldn’t let you touch me after I heard what you were going to do to me.” 

“We’re past that now.”  
  
“Are we?” 

“You will have a child or not, I thought we came to this conclusion yesterday.” 

“Did we?” she questioned me. “Or were you just trying to manipulate me?” 

I puckered my lips at her with distaste. “Oh, is that what you thought I was doing?” 

“Why else would you buy me that dress.” 

“Because I _like_ you,” I roared. “Or is it so hard for you to figure that out?” 

“I want that child,” she stated. “If it comes to pass, will you let me have it?” 

“Yes,” I breathed out. “And you and I will live to regret it.” 

“I don’t think so.” 

“I think so,” I countered. “And you’ll remember this day… you’ll remember what I told you.” 

“No,” she answered me. “I’ll remember this…” she drew a hand around the back of my head to lean me forward, pressing her lips lightly on mine before she melded into my own. I cupped my hands around her hips, kissing her darkly to thoroughly corrupt her. 

“I’ll remember it,” I told her, and then inched my head backwards to look at her darkened silhouette in the bathroom. “And I’ll hate you for it.” 

“You’ll love me,” she gibed in a tender voice, and then took a hold of my hand to lead me out of the room.

* * *

It was late in the night when I heard a knock on the door. I rolled over in my bed, seeing my room covered in darkness aside from the faint moonlight coming from the crack of the drapes. "Come in!" I yelled out, still to exhausted to go open the door myself. The door creaked open slowly, a silhouette of a head peaked into the room belonging to Burnham. "Yes, what's wrong?" I roughly inquired, knowing she made it quite clear that we would be sleeping in separate rooms tonight.

"Gabe?" her voice sounded unusually high.

"Yes, what is it?"

She pushed open the door revealing the rose-pink corset I had purchased for her. I immediately sat up in the bed, letting my legs dangle over the side as I sat there with my mouth gaped open. "Dear lord," I hushed, feeling it looked more beautiful than I could ever imagine.

"I couldn't sleep so I tried it on-"

"-come here," I interrupted with my hands open wide to enrapture her. She nervously sat on my lap, before I forced her legs to fall over the side of my bed. I took a good look at her while she was tightly wrapped around my arms, and then I laid a tender kiss on the side of her shoulder. "God, you look beautiful," I gasped, and then strung my fingers through her tight curls in wonder. I could sense her nervousness, a tenseness by the way I was looking at her. I wasn't exactly aroused, it was more taken back by how the fabric so elegantly sculpted her body. "I want to see it with the dress on."

"Now?"

"Yes."

"But its so late," she moaned. "Gabe, its past midnight."

"Come on." I patted her thigh till she slipped off my lap, and I immediately took her hand to show her out my room. Her candlelight illuminated the room when we walked in, and I felt my breath being caught in my throat once I saw her standing in the warm lighting of the room. Common sense left me, I took a hold of the back of her head and kissed her lips deeply. She dug her hands down the thin shawl of my long dressing gown, pulling at the fabric as I kissed her harder. I found our feet shuffling across the floor, our nails digging deep into each other skin's. If I could devour this woman I would, it was so easy to lose myself in her arms. We crashed into her bed, rolling around her crumbled sheets. It was Michael that began to lift up my clothing, pulling it over my head until I was practically naked atop of her. I felt her hot hand rub against the front of my chest, feeling the deep ridges from years working in the military. She rubbed her hand over a small scar over the side of my shoulder, smiling at me slightly as she looked at my warm complexion under the orange candlelight. "What is it?"

"Nothing," she lied, and then placed her hand over the back of my neck to steer me towards the bed. I knew she would let me make love to her now, there was nothing in the world that would stop me from doing it.

"May I have the honour?" I teased, and used my fingers to untie the newly bought corset.

"You may," she answered me, before she leaned her head back onto the pillow while she watched me undress her.

"This was worth every penny."

"So, you can get me into your bed."

"Your bed actually."

"I thought you wanted to see me in my dress."

"Tomorrow," I promised her. "And I'll have you practice that dance again."

"But there isn't any music."

"You master the steps, and I'll figure out a way to bring some music in the house."

"How?"

"I'll be creative," I taunted her, and then broke her corset apart to see her chest spilling out. "Worth every penny," I repeated, and then pulled off the last of the covering until it could slip through both of her arms. She sat up on her bed with her legs wide apart; I was on my knees in front of her just staring at her naked body.

"You know what might happen if we do this?"

"I know."

"Are you prepared for the consequences?"

"I don't know."

"You can stop now, before its too late."

"But I _want_ you Burnham." She laid a hand over her chest, resting it over her heart as she looked me deep in my eyes. "I _need_ you."

Ever so slowly she was reclining herself into the bed, my hand over the center of her chest was guiding her downwards. I endowed her lips with gentle kisses, carefully removing my small clothing enough for me to be free when she needed it most. I straddled her quickly, prodding myself against her within seconds. I wasn't going in, no I simply wanted to give her a taste. I kept kissing her fiendishly, dragging my fingers up her neck in a seduction motion. She let out heated gasp as the build up continued, feeling my other hand trailing wavy lines down her chest and falling down the curves where her firm abdomen was. I slid my tongue into her mouth, hearing a sharp gasp before she forced herself to play the game as well. I was losing it steadily, lost in the pleasures of her flesh. I thrust into her unwillingly, feeling her body tilt itself towards me in silent welcome.

"Gabe," she drawled out long and hard, and then let out a low grunt of defeat when I thrust into her again. She widened her hips for me, letting me slip inside despite there not being any foreplay this time. I was just satisfied she was wet for me, finding no resistance as I slid myself inside of her. The rhythmic thrusts kept us both engaged, enough to let out leveled sighs at the same time before she pleaded for more. Michael was becoming a different creature with me, hungry with wantonness and filled with desire as she carved her nails down the back of my spine as I kissed her lovingly. There was something about the way she pleaded my name, the way her eyelashes fluttered with ecstasy as I kept her on a high. I could feel sweat dripping down my brow, picking up the pace as her small bed rocked beneath us. I was a large man, but somehow my weight didn't deter her- no she only wanted more of me. I went down on her kiss-swollen lips, feeling it pucker with delight the minute I laid my own on it.

"I'm not letting you go," I warned, as we continued this high.

"Harder, Gabe," was the only thing she could reply, and let out a throaty moan as I dug into her deeper. She was so different from the first time, striving for that burning sensation- that high that only I could provide. It hit us both suddenly, and when it did her head fell flat upon the bed with exhaustion as I finished the last of myself inside of her. I plopped my body over hers, stretching out my neck as I desperately tried to catch my breath.

"Oh god," I said in a throaty voice, feeling thirsty and tired all of a sudden. I knew I had released myself in her again, but I wasn't worried about the consequences this time. Michael let the flat of her hands stroke my upper back, her chest heaving from the exertion I had pressed upon her. "Thank you, Michael." I kissed the shapely jawline I adored so well, and then snuggled my body against her as I found her unwillingly falling asleep in my arms.  
  
     

 

 


	19. The Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel finds true happiness in Burnham, and the effects of it makes his old time friend, Carl, ask questions. He is left with a difficult decision that can put Burnham and his life in danger- whether or not he should tell him the truth.

Cold water dripped down my hands, rolling down the length of my arms as I stared into the looking glass. I bent down to drench my face in the water, taking off the last of the soap until my face was clean. I heard water splashing behind me, letting me know that Burnham was finally coming out of the bathtub. I licked my bottom lip at the thought of it: naked and wet, emerging out of my tub as if it was the most common thing in the world. “I should start breakfast,” she said behind me, a clarity of thought that told me she was unphased by this whole scenario. “I never intended to sleep in.”

“I’m happy you did,” I told her, after I turned around to face her. Michael was cozily wrapped up in one of my towels, a spare one was placed over her head as she tried to sponge out the excess water.

“You have church.”

“And so, do you,” I reminded her. “Though I wish I could pull Hugh Culber aside and have a word.”

“Like what?” she teased. The towel over her head was laid over the side of the tub, and now her whole attention was directed on me. I noticed how she eyed me with lust, taking in my bare chest with a white towel wrapped low over my hips.

“I forgot,” I told her in truth, feeling the heat of her gaze.

A smirk played upon her lips, and then she walked out of the room with a lingering gaze on my person. “Maybe I won’t go today!” I yelled out, once she exited the bathroom.

“You will!” echoed from my bedroom.

I brushed back my damp hair, while my left hand reached for a container of oil to moisturize my skin. Burnham was sitting on the edge of my bed, her towel removed to rub down the length of her leg. My jaw dropped at the sight of her, still not believing any of this was true. She was unaware of it, wrapping the towel around the curve of her ankle with fixed attention. She tossed the towel behind her, and only then looked up to see me watching her. “Gabe,” she scolded, knowing full well what I was thinking.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“You are,” she answered me, and did her best to cover her perk breasts. “Look away.”

“No.”

“I left my clothes in my room,” she complained, and visibly sighed in front of me. “Gabriel, please.”

“No,” I answered her with a smirk, and made my way over to her with my arms swaying from side to side. I leaned in front of her, smiling at her in good humour, liking the way her dark eyes looked at me with acute curiosity. I tilted my head, laying a kiss on the side of her cheek affectionately, feeling the brushing of her hand over the side of my face to keep me there a minute more. “I’m not going,” I whispered, which earned me a fit of giggles from her.

“Gabriel, you are,” she stated in a commanding tone of voice, and stood to her feet at once with proven resolve. I watched her walk across my bedroom floor, fully naked with all the confidence in the world. “Get dressed, Gabriel,” she ordered of me, but I thought it best not to remove my bath towel until she was out of my room.

* * *

I was watching her button up her coat, proud to see her adorned in something I had purchased for her. A soft padding on the top of her shoulder commenced, feeling the plush warm fabric under my fingertips. “You look well, Burnham.”

“Thank you.” She softly went on her toes, kissing me on the top part of my cheek. “And for the hat too.”

“You are most welcome.”

She looked over to the open window, watching the fluffy white flakes flutter outside of my glass window.  I took a moment to study her profile: the effortless curl of her eyelashes, the soft coils springing from her hair. Warm eyes turned back to me with a tinge of a smile. “You don’t want me to go.”

“No.”

“I won’t be gone long,” she reminded me. “And you have to go as well.”

“I wish we could go together,” I confessed.

“I know.”

I reached for her hand, taking it my own to bring it closer to my chest. “I don’t understand,” I began in a deep tenor. “Why you must go to one church, and I another.”

“That’s just the way it is, Gabriel.”

“It’s wrong.” She bit down on the bottom of her lip, letting her gaze fall away from me. “You agree with me, don’t you?”

“Yes.” Her dark eyebrows furrowed together as she relented: “There is nothing I can do about it.”

“We’ll see,” I sighed, and then gave her a meaningful kiss before I let her leave my humble home. Her small, dark figure could be seen through my clear glass window, a sharp contrast to the all white environment outside. I swallowed hard at the sight of her, angry that we were forced to go our separate ways. A hard slam of the palm of my hand rocked the wall in front of me, and then with an enormous amount of regret I strode towards the front door.

I suppose I should have felt a level of guilt as I walked towards my cathedral, but only anger consumed me; furious that the laws of the land prevented me from having her. I loved Michael, I knew that now, and the mere thought of people telling me what to do with my life aggravated me.

By the time I opened the wooden doors to the old cathedral, I felt a twisted feeling at the bottom of my stomach and feared to look at anyone in the eyes. It was cruel how happy they were, and how quick they were to greet me and shake my hands as though we were brothers. Oh, the guilt I felt at that moment- the shame.

“Gab!” rang out behind me, and I turned my head to search the crowd for Carl. “Gab,” he repeated, once he pushed himself through a portion of it, waving his hand high in the air for me to see it. I smiled at my old friend, grateful that he should find me when I needed him most.

“Got a long frown,” he observed. Carl wasn’t pleased by this fact, wearing a frown that could equal my own. “Bit too loud in here, let’s go someplace else.” He took my arm, steering me down one of the abandoned hallways that was away from the crowd waiting to go inside the inner room. He watched me lean my back against the wall, staring down at my feet with a severe puckering of my lips. “Alright, what is it?”

“I just woke up on the wrong side of the bed, that’s all.”

“No,” he loudly objected, and then looked to the right and left to make sure no one was listening. “It’s not that. I know you have been happy lately, and whatever it was… it’s gone, isn’t it?”

“Carl,” I breathed out sadly. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

The church bell rang over our head’s, signaling the time for us to go inside.

“What happened to you?” he demanded, with two fingers pressed against my chest.

“I told you,” I spat out, before I pushed his hand away from me. “That I don’t want to talk about it!”

“Your hot tempered,” he observed. “Moody! I mean look at you, one minute you are walking on clouds and now I get the feeling…” Carl lowered his voice so no one would hear the last of his words: “you want to kill someone.”

“I’m just upset.”

“Yes.”

“But it will blow over.”

“Will it?” he questioned me, and when he caught my faltering gaze, he knew I was only lying to him. “Is it so bad that you can’t tell me?”

“I…”

“I can help you. We have been through a lot, remember?”

“I remember.”

“Come on,” Carl urged with a grip around the sides of my arm. “Tell me.”

“I like someone,” I relented. “A lot!”

“Alright.” He patted me on the side of my arm, and then took a step back with relief. “So, you like a girl.”

“Yes.”

“And the issue is?”

“I can’t be with her.”

“Katrina,” he said with a look of understanding. “You want her, but she’s married.”

“Its not Kat.”

“Oh?”

“It’s someone else.”

“Oh,” he repeated with a hunch of his shoulders. “Its that bad, huh?” The main lobby area had quieted down, and we both realized how easily our voices could travel. “Will talk about it some other time then, for now let’s go inside.”

He laid a hand in the center of my back, leading me forward so we could be reunited with the others. I knew my problem wouldn’t go away, but perhaps finding some conciliation from my old friend would help.

Once we entered the main cathedral area the choir had already started. Carl continued to lead me forward, his eyes scanning the crowd as he tried to look for his wife. “Why does Rebecca have to be so small?” he complained, sweeping his eyes through the pews where the people were currently standing. “You know she will make a fuss for me not going into the room with her. You will cover for me, won’t you?”

“I will say its my fault,” I agreed. I was the first to spot his wife, her flamboyant yellow dress was the first thing that caught my attention, but not necessarily in a good way. “And she will hate me all the more.”

Carl laughed at that, and then made a polite excuse to the line of people we were forced to pass to get to our end of the pew. Rebecca was quick to scold me the second she laid eyes on me, causing my old friend to laugh with hysterics. “Quiet up,” she warned. “Or you will have us all kicked out.”

“No, just you,” he teased, which sent a bible heading in his direction and smacking against the side of his arm. “Owww.”

“Talking to your wife like that,” she reprimanded, and then laid the bible against her chest protectively.

The two began to bicker among each other, allowing me to stray my gaze away from them to look at the front pew. I took note of the men standing next to the front pews, adorned in the military outfits that was similar to my own. There was no reason to wear them, but there were some that were still insistent on showing the world their accomplished military career. I grunted at the sight of them, finding them too pompous for my liking.

The pastor ordered the crowd to be seated, and it was only when a few people sat down faster than the rest that I recognized her immediately. “Kat,” I mouthed, and felt a faint blush spreading across my cheeks.

_She is still here._

“Is that?” I turned my head to see Carl’s mouth open wide. “God, it is her.”

Rebecca insisted that we sit down, not liking the fact that we were the few left standing. I took a quick seat, hoping she wouldn’t turn around to notice me.

 _Why is she here,_ I wondered, _should she have left the city by now?_

There was no time to talk with Carl, the room was silent, and so I was left to my own thoughts. It was strange seeing her there, dressed in a dark orange dress with her hair eloquently braided. She appeared to be comfortable with her husband, the admiral, though it was hard to judge from so far a distance.

If it wasn’t for Burnham, I would have felt a pang of jealousy, but now I felt nothing. It only made me want Burnham more, feeling like she suited me more than Katrina ever could.

For the second week in a row I had trouble listening to the sermon, feeling my mind drift away with memories that were once was. I had hope now, a future that was brighter since I would be able to share it with her.

_If only she was here._

Carl nudged me on my shoulder, and then darted his eyes between Katrina and I. “Imagine that,” he whispered, before his wife told him to stop.

_There would be other times to talk about her._

l knew it was wrong to think of Burnham while sitting there, hating the fact that I was so wholly consumed by this woman. It wasn’t healthy, I knew, an obsession that could destroy me in the end. Still, the mere thought that once this hour was done, I could be with her again, well, it was distracting to say the least.

_One hour…_

“You alright there?” Carl whispered.

“I’m fine.”

“Having a nice fantasy?”

“What?”

“Fantasy,” he drawled out nice and slow, before his wife could nudge him on the arm again. Carl had to submit to his wife’s whims, returning his attention back to the pastor up front.

It was at that moment that Katrina stood out of her seat, sheepishly walking past her husband and the others to get to the corner of the room. “Going to the washroom?” Carl muttered, with a nod of his head in her direction.

She walked along the side of the room, knowing all eyes were on her as she quietly snuck her way to the back. Her eyes caught mine, startled at the fact that we should meet again. _She looks exactly the same._ There was a hint of a smile for old times sake, a lingering gaze until she purposefully walked past my pew.

“I saw that,” Carl snickered.

“It’s nothing.”

“Nothing,” he echoed with a mocking look.

“I’m not interested.”

“Oh, but she is.”

* * *

“You seem lost in your head.” My bangs were pushed back, and her fingers smoothed down the worried lines over my brow.

“I’m just happy your home.”

“I am too,” she cooed, before she curled up with me on the couch further. The making of lunch was delayed, we were more content laying in each other’s arms. “What’s on your mind?”

“I saw Kat.”

“Oh.”

“I don’t want her,” I told her. “Its just weird seeing her again.”

“Did you talk to her?”

“No, I left the church as soon as the service was done.”

“Okay.”

“Carl might come around later to taunt me,” I surmised. “I want to tell him about us.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m happy.” I kissed the corner of her temple. “I want him to see it.”

“But he could tell someone.”

“He won’t.”

“I don’t think so many people should know.”

“It’s only Sam,” I reminded her. “And him… if your fine with it.”

“I think we should wait.”

“Until when?”

She readjusted herself in my arms, laying her head against the center of my chest. “I’m just worried the truth will come out.”

“Don’t be.”

“There is too much at risk.”

“We fought in the war together, Michael, I _trust_ him.”

“I hope this isn’t a mistake,” she mused aloud, as she toyed with the soft fabric of my shirt.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” I promised her, and then kissed the top of her head devotedly. She snuggled against me, wanting to be as close to me as possible. “I’ll take care of you.”

“I know.”

“Then _trust_ me,” I begged, and wrapped my arms around her as tight as I could. She relented in her own way, becoming silent as she considered the last of my words. I wouldn’t let anything happen to her, I would defy the world itself, and with that thought resolutely in my mind I held her close as if this was our very last time.

* * *

Another week passed by, and Burnham was frantically moving around in the kitchen with a nervous air about her. She was wearing a new dress I bought her, a long black apron covering the front of her as she dished rice out of a pot and placed it in a large porcelain bowl. “Do you think he will like it?”

“He’ll love it.”

“I’m so nervous.”

“Don’t be.” I assisted her, taking up the necessary things to bring into the dining room. “I’ll be right back.”

The table was set up when I walked in, decorated nicely for our guest. It felt strange seeing the dining room table set up for three people, but I thought it was a nice change.

 _At least its not four,_ I reminded myself, relieved at the fact that Carl promised me he wouldn’t tell his wife about us.

I wandered over to the fireplace, prodding the burning firewood a bit with a metal rod to get it stirring higher. Once I was satisfied, I returned to the kitchen to see it in utter chaos. “You are doing fine!”

“He won’t like it.”

“He’ll love it.”

“What if your wrong?” I brought her into me, wrapping my arms around the bottom of Burnham’s spine as I took a good look at her. “You told me he was upset when you first told him.”

“Shocked, that’s all.”

“But he wasn’t happy?”

“Why does it matter what he thinks?” I argued back.

“Because he is your friend.”

I leaned forward and pressed my lips on hers, wanting to console her. She resisted my kisses, so I drew her into my chest with a hard shove, bringing my lips down upon hers until she started to react. _About time,_ I thought, feeling her oven mitts being pressed down against the tops of my shoulders as she desired more. I was getting lost in the moment, tilting her body backwards until she had to grip her hands onto my shoulders for support.

“I have to finish dinner,” she cooed, and licked her lips at me seductively as she inched her head away.

“It’s done.”

“I have to serve it,” she clarified.

“I’ll help.”

She smiled at me kindly, and then gave me a look which forced me to let Burnham go. “He should be here any moment.”

“The kind to show up on time?”

“Yes.”

“Then he has a minute,” she teased, and then turned her back away from me to finish her things. I left her, pacing in front of my front door with a frenzy of nerves coming over me. Carl couldn’t believe it when I told him the truth, alarmed and then angry that I should have fallen so hard for Michael Burnham. It took him a while to come to terms with it, and only yesterday agreed to meet her not as a slave girl but as a woman.

A knock resounded on the door, I briskly opened it to let an old friend in. “Well, look who it is,” he piped up, holding out a box for me to take. “Dessert.”

“You didn’t have too.”

“No, Rebecca was most adamant about it.” He looked guilty as he added, “Though it wasn’t her that made it.”

_He means his slave did it._

“So where is Michael?”

I cleared my throat to get rid of the awkwardness that seemed to fall upon us. “She’s just in the kitchen. Burnham will be out in a moment.”

“Do I call her Michael or Burnham?”

“Michael.”

“Odd name for a girl,” he mused aloud. “You know why they gave her that name?”

“No.” I pointed out my coat rack where he could hang up his things. “I never asked her.”

Carl nodded his head at me gravely, and then turned his back to me to remove his stuff. He was tense, I knew, confused why I should be romantically attached to my servant. He blinked nervously once he turned around to face me, and then offered me a smile that was insincere. “I guess I should take off my boots,” he chuckled with a timed look in his eyes, bending down slowly to remove his stuff.

Burnham walked down the hallway at that moment, her familiar tread padding across the hardwood floor. I went over to greet her, noticing the way her chest heaved as I drew myself closer. “It’s fine,” I whispered, letting my hand fall away from the cake’s container to place her hand in my own. I kissed her on the cheek quickly, taking in the familiar scent of her hair. I got lost in a moment, only coming back to my senses once she uttered my name quietly.

“It’s a… nice to finally meet you,” Carl relayed, and then stepped forward to shake Michael’s hand. “Gabe has told me a lot about you.”

“He speaks a lot about you too.” I let a long arm wrap itself around Burnham, showing Carl how much she meant to me.

“Odd, since he is not a talkative person,” Carl teased with a sly wink in my direction. “I brought you cake! I hope you have a sweet tooth.”

I assured Carl that she did, and then led them into the dining room area. Burnham made the excuse to grab a few last-minute things, making her best effort to untie her apron as she walked out the room.

“She’s pretty.” Carl pulled out a chair and then took a seat. “And young.”

“Yes.”

“And you like her a lot.”

“Yes.”

“Get a one-word answer from you now?”

“You are stating things I already know.”

“Why her?”

“Why not.” He raised his eyebrows at me in surprise. “You see something against her?”

“No, but…”

“You do.”

“It’s just that she’s… you know…” Carl bit down on his lip once Burnham entered the room. “Oh, that looks lovely! It smells good too.”

She laid the last plate down on the table, and then took a step back to catch the annoyed look on my expression. “Let’s eat,” I found myself saying, and went around to pull out a chair for her. A polite thank you was offered to me, and warm smile in my direction; Carl caught the small interaction but never said a word. I took up the job of spooning out our food, catching him off guard. Carl offered to say a short prayer, and then dug his fork into grilled potatoes that Burnham cooked especially for me.

“So, how did it happen?”

I looked over my plate of food, seeing Burnham right across from me. “How did what happen?”

“The two of you.”

“When you live together long enough, something is bound to happen,” I gibed.

“No, don’t give me that.” He pointed his knife at me teasingly. “I want the truth in the matter. I live with my slaves and I didn’t end up like you.”

“That’s because they’re not Burnham.”

“Clever.”

“I have you know it was _I_ that did the pursing.”

“You astound me.”

“And it took quite a long while to convince her.” Burnham shook her head in embarrassment, a movement that made me prod my toe onto her inner leg. _She’s irresistible._

“And you Michael?” Carl asked of her. “What did he do to convince you?”

“I had found we are more compatible than I had originally anticipated.” Her logical mind was displayed, a thing that made me proud. “And among other things, Gabriel is perseverant.”

“This is true.”

“We have a lot in common too.”

“Like?”

“Astronomy,” she piped in. “Science, geography, a desire to travel.”

“It’s true,” I conceded aloud. “We can talk for days on end about these things. We bonded over books at first. Shakespeare to be exact.”

“Midsummer Night’s Dream.”

“Up and down, up and down.” Burnham laughed at my sly remark, knowing exactly what moment I was referencing.

Carl lifted his cup of water, holding it in the air as he studied us both.

“I’m quite fond of Puck, didn’t you know.”

“Only because he is a _trickster._ ”

I smirked at Burnham fondly, pleased that she should knew me so well.

Carl cleared his throat to get our attention. “Now I see it,” was all that he could offer out.

I laid my utensils down, laying my elbow over the table to rest my head. “Why we’re together.”

“Yes,” he replied in a low tone of voice.

“If only everyone else can see it that way.”

Burnham’s voice was strong, full of overwhelming confidence as she stated: “One day they will.”

“No, they won’t,” Carl quickly answered back.

“Maybe not in _our_ lifetime, but they will.”

 


	20. Peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael and Gabriel are at peace with one another. They are finding their relationship going stronger as time passes by, but Gabriel is gradually becoming aware of the dangers posed just outside his door.

Burnham opened her arms for me the minute the front door was shut; it took me less than a second to fall into her arms. “It wasn’t that bad,” I voiced aloud, and then nuzzled my cheek against her own.

“It was fine.”

“It will take him a while,” I noted in a deep tenor. “To change his mind about things.” I let my cheek glide across her own until I leaned my head backwards. “But he’s lived his whole life that way.”

“Haven’t you?”

“I don’t know,” I said in truth. Burnham patted her hand in the center of my chest, and then let it rest where my beating heart was. “I guess we were taught to think this way… _treat_ people this way.” I licked my lips nervously, not wanting to offend her. “But it’s wrong.” She nodded her head at me slightly, and then offered me a timid sort of smile. “Carl will see it this way, just give him more time.”

“There’s no rush,” she acknowledged. “And he was polite for the most part.”

“Thoroughly English.” Burnham snickered at that, laying her body against my chest with a carefree manner. “But did you like him?”

“He has an odd sense of humour.”

“Does he?”

“And I liked watching your interaction with him,” she added. “I’ve only ever seen you talk with me, and Samuel that one time.”

“Two,” I rebutted. “And each time was horrible.”

“You still haven’t heard from him?” she asked with worry. I shook my head at her with regret, keeping my gaze on my lovely Burnham. “You should tell him?”

“Then I want to keep the child,” I acknowledged aloud. “If we have one.”

“I think he should know.”

I nodded my head at her, letting my gaze drop down to her shoulder in silent reflection. “We can’t stay here, if it comes to that.”

“Why?”

“It isn’t safe.”

“No where is safe.”

“Somewhere has to be,” I pondered aloud. Burnham slipped out of my arms, descending to the floor gracefully till her feet were flat on the ground, and then she leaned into my side to lead me away from the front door. It was late evening; night was creeping just outside of our doorstep. There were dishes that needed to put away, and the dining table to be cleared; I knew she was thinking about these things as she led me into the dining room. She departed from me, pushing in our chairs with careful attention. I left her to wander over to the roaring fire, prodding the wood with a metal rod to keep it going. She left the room to put away a few things, and I carried out my normal custom of plucking my pipe off the fireplace ledge and placing it into my mouth with pleasure. There was a normal routine now, where she would do her own thing while I leisurely puffed out thick clouds of smoke.

She returned into the room; an apron wrapped around her to protect her dark navy-blue dress. Burnham requested a conservative colour, hating anything that was too bright for her liking. A damp towel was held in her hand, she laid it over my maple coloured table, dragging it in small circles to get rid of any crumbs. I watched her attentively, liking the way her body moved under the warm candlelight. She was beautiful, more beautiful than I could ever tell her, for she would just laugh at me and think I wanted something from her. I found my feet gravitating towards her, a hand laid over her lower back to keep her near. “I can’t believe a week flew by already.”

“I know.”

“Time used to go so slow.”

She folded the towel neatly, and then let it rest over the corner of the table. Burnham was kind enough to turn her body to me, knowing all I really wanted was her kiss. She gave it to me quickly, and then continued with the rest of her endeavours in a cheerful mood. I took to biting down at the stem of my pipe, eyeing her carefully before I wandered away. It was so easy being around her, so comfortable that I hardly need to think about it at all.

She left the room again, probably finishing up the last of her stuff. I stretched out my legs and strode towards the closed blinds. A tiny tug and I could see a small crack through the window, the faint lighting resting over the paleness of my white hand. The street was calm, only a few people walking down the road to get to their destination. I could sense spring was on the verge of existence, given the fact that the snow was slightly melting around the outside of my windowsill. It would be another few months, but summer would come again, and with it the brightness of the yellow sun.

“You’ll catch cold,” Burnham piped up. I looked over my shoulder to see her just entering the room, her apron abandoned in the kitchen where it belonged. “Come near the fire.”

I pulled down my pipe, and then followed her instructions. She was waiting for me there, her hand reaching out for mine with sudden swiftness. “What is it?”

“You know I always liked your eye colour,” she confessed, with an open look about her.

“You have?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you, Burnham,” I muttered, and then leaned forward to peck my lip at the back of her hand. “I like yours too.”

“It’s so dark,” she complained.

“Yes, but it has a sort of expression to it.” I smirked at her deviously as I added, “I enjoy reading it.”

Her hand tightened in mine before she stated, “I’m happy.”

“I know.”

“I can’t remember the last time I was… until I met you.” Her eyes lowered to my chest as she relayed, “You treat me like a person… a human being.”

“You are.”

“Yes, but you were the first,” she deliberated aloud. “Lord Sarek saw me as some strange project, and… the Captain took in interest in me only because he saw how bright I was.” Her lips tightened as she muttered, “Which only caused me trouble.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” She bit down on the inside of her cheek, closing herself off for a moment. I pulled her into me, knowing she was trying to block something off at the back of her mind. When her eyes began to water with tears, I was quick to comfort her, wrapping my arms around her to keep her safe and warm.

Some time past before she was able to compose herself, thank me quietly before she attempted to break herself away. “I’m just happy you’re here,” I told her, which earned a small smile from her.

She soberly told me she was tired and made a sly invitation for me to come to bed with her. There would be no sleeping with her tonight, only the comfort of each other to keep us warm for the night. I assured her that I would be up in a moment, taking on the task of putting out the fire and locking all the doors. It had been a long day: church, lunch and then preparing dinner that was befitting for my half-judgmental friend. He had met Burnham and liked her but couldn’t get past the issue of her race. Time will tell, I knew, but at least I can trust him with my secret.

The stairs creaked underneath my feet, a sound that my Burnham would pick up for sure. She was buried under covers when I finally entered the room, but she had a candle set up for me with my pajamas laid on my side of my bed. She took care of me; it was her own way of showing me her affection. I thanked her quietly, and then went to the bathroom to wash up my face and hands before I went to bed. A few minutes passed by, and when I entered into the inner part of my bedroom, I could see her watching me as she laid stretched out upon the bed. “Your taking your time,” she half scolded, after I stood there off to the side, slowly unbuttoning my shirt.

“There’s no rush,” I reminded her. “And I thought you were tired.”

“I am.” She smiled at me, and then ducked her head undercovers untill all I could see was the tight coils of her dark hair. I was always fascinated by its texture, for it was such a sharp contrast to my own. I climbed into the bed with her, wrapping a long arm over the side of her waist to curl her body into me. She was warm, and I enjoyed the way her body formed into my own. “Tomorrow is Monday,” she noted. “Will you have to go out?”

I huffed out, “A few small errands.”

“Will you be back in time for lunch?”

“Maybe a little after.”

“Have you heard from your sister?” she unexpectedly asked. “You were so worried earlier on this week.”

“Not since her last letter. It’s too bad the last one I sent was for my nephew’s birthday, not even knowing he was sick.”

“But how could you?”

“I still blame myself.”

“He could get better.”

“From what she’s describing,” I tiredly replied. “I don’t think so.”

“I’m sorry, Gabe.”

“Its alright,” I lied, and then tucked my face into her thickly luscious curls. “Why does your hair always smell so good?”

“A little bit of honey,” she replied. “Wash it out, but the scent is still there.”

“I never knew I had honey in the house.”

She laughed at me, her body softly rocking against my own. “Well, you do.”

“And if I run out of it, you better tell me right away.”

“Yes, General Lorca,” she teased. I snuggled myself against her more, finding myself safe enough to fall asleep.

“Carl won’t tell anyone will he?”

“No, Burnham.”

“Your certain.”

“Absolutely certain.” She became too quiet for my liking, so I pulled her body into me possessively. “You trust me, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she softly replied, though it was so low I could barely hear it. “I should get some sleep.”

“Goodnight then, Michael.”

“Night, Gabe,” she sweetly replied, and then she did her best to fall asleep.

* * *

I spent the morning at a local bookshop, looking up the illness that my nephew, Nathaniel, seemed to be plagued with. Coughing out huge clumps of blood is never a good sign.

The shop was surprisingly busy for a Monday morning, so I found a nice chair right under a windowsill and began to read. The bookshop was warm, enough for me to remove my scarf and bundle it up over my lap. Michael had made no requests of novels for today, but if I saw something she would like than I would gladly pick it up for her.

 _Tuberculosis,_ I realized, after I found the symptoms accurately represented my nephews for the most part. “Fever, unexpected weight loss… persistent coughing.” I shook my head anxiously as I concluded, “Poor Nathaniel.”

I had often thought of returning to dear old England, but I knew the life I led with Burnham it would be next to impossible. We were able to keep our romantic lives a secret from the rest of society, but it would be a great difficulty to carry it out there.

I thought of the childhood horror stories Burnham would relay to me once and while when she was in a mood. _She never did tell me what happened to her parents._ She admitted to me that she came from the South, and all she can remember was being a little girl traveling on a boat. She never described that journey, only that she arrived somewhere along the coastal sea. “It was warm,” she recalled. “And the sea was an endless blue.” She would later learn that she arrived off the coast of Nova Scotia, an area where incoming slaves were docked and checked before they were to be carted inland. She came to the province of Quebec with her parents, and that was all that she would relay to me.

_She’s a world of secrets._

One of the workers asked if I needed anything, probably not liking that I was reading the medical book without the intention of buying it. I rose to my feet tiredly, inquiring whether he had any books on the Maritimes where Burnham must have first arrived. The man, a round grey-haired person with a pleasant demeanour claimed that there was no such item but directed me to the historical area where I could find enough books on Quebec and Montreal. I purchased one that caught my eye, and then left the small bookstore to visit the bank, an errand I had been putting off for a while.

My regular teller wasn’t there, instead it was another young man that gave me the required amount of bills with a raised eyebrow. I was taking out an awful amount of money lately; purchasing little treats and presents for Burnham was steadily adding up. I had to learn to control myself, knowing I only had myself to blame.

I then went to the postal office to mail out some money to my sister, hoping that would help pay for any doctor that was needing her son’s services. I had no children, so Nathaniel was the closet thing I could ever claim to be my own. Her husband abandoned her, a drunkard that took to the slums of the city. She was alone, poor thing, so I knew any money would help my sister greatly.

I was walking across an open square when I noticed two dark coloured people standing off to the side, staring at a raised brick platform that was burnt and scorched at the top and sides. The snow could not hide its ruin, and even I was taken back by the blackness of the area. I looked at the man and who I presumed to be his wife, but when they caught my stare, they were quick to hide, and turn the opposite direction to evade me. Slowly I walked towards the platform, letting my eyes scan the area with curiosity. There was no engraving there, no markings to tell its history. There was something mournful about it though, which made me too weak to climb on top of it. It was clear it was meant for the entire public to see, but what the exact intention was unclear. I laid a hand over the cold bumpy surface, letting my fingers glide over the scorched area. Footsteps sounded behind me, and then I looked over my shoulder to see a policeman watching me. I gulped hard, feeling nervous under his relentless gaze.

“Sir,” he noted, with a sharp nod of his head.

“Good morning.”

He was an English man thankfully, and when he rubbed his hands down his dark sideburns that were like my own, I felt I could trust him.

“Something interesting you?”

“I saw people staring at this platform, and I was wondering why.”

“What kind of people?”

I never wanted to utter the word aloud, but the longer he stared at me I knew I had to relent: “Negroes.”

He never even batted an eye, only smirked at me from the corner of his mouth. “Good that they remember.”

“Remember what?”

“The history here,” he chuckled. “They tied the girl up and burned her to the stake, like the witch she is.” I batted my eyelashes slowly, saddened to hear the news. “She denied it to the end.”

“Denied what?”

“Not even our clever methods… torturing she called it, could get it out of her.”

“Denied what?” I repeated with an anger to my voice.

“Burning down the house,” he smartly shot back. “Be with a white man.”

“What?”

“Got mad at him, they said.”

“Wha- what?”

“And then she lit his whole place on fire and ran, but we caught her. Hell! We caught her good.” He almost laughed as he observed, “But that must be about five years ago. You must be new around her, if you don’t remember.”

“I am.”

“I can tell.” He smirked at me, an awful darkness to his eyes. “But I’m sure it taught the rest of ‘em a hard lesson. Don’t go sleeping with a white man.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last part of this story is based on real events. I will not give away the exact name of the woman that suffered this awful fate at the moment, but if you are curious you will probably find her entire story online. I accidentally visited this place a few years back, and they had a visual monument in remembrance of her in Old Montreal.
> 
> I do apologize again for using the "n" word. I really do not like using it, and it will only crop up in the story when necessary.
> 
> Thanks for taking the time to read this story,
> 
> petyrbaaaeeelish


	21. Boldness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel and Michael have two unexpected visitors on a Monday afternoon. The encounters give enough warning for Gabriel to take drastic measures, ones that will ensure the safety of his Burnham.

Needless to say, I was heading back to my house as fast as I could, skipping over the cobbled streets and darting down shady alleyways to make my way back to Burnham.

My hat was removed by the time I spotted my house, letting the trapped heat escape my sweaty head as I made my way further. I could see the brown bricked building across the street, covered in a mound of snow that was ever so slowly melting from my house. I caught a moving figure in front of the door, a swish of a long coat before they turned around and I recognized her face at once.

Katrina recognized me as well, raising up her hand in silent greeting. I looked to my right and left, ensuring the street was completely empty before I crossed it. _What is she doing here?_

She bundled herself up tighter in her cream coloured coat, trying to keep in the heat even though it wasn’t the coldest of days. Katrina eyed me with curiosity, as if something had taken interest in her. “Hello Gabriel,” she piped up, after I had mounted the steps to be at eye level with her once more.

“Kat?”

“She said you weren’t home.” Katrina pointed behind her, where she was still positioned in front of my door. “But I guess you came at the right time.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Now, Gabriel,” she teased, just like old times. “Is that anyway to talk to a long time friend.”

I crossed my arms at her, feeling suspicious why she had come all this way to visit me. “I haven’t much time before I move on to the next house,” she explained. “Mind if I come in and talk for a bit.”

_It’s not like I have a choice._

“Where is your husband?”

She laughed at me, brushing back the thin strands of chestnut coloured hair. “He is out.”

_What does she want from me?_

“I don’t have to be tied up with my husband, if that’s what your thinking.”

“No.”

“These are different times,” she exclaimed. “I’m an independent woman, but you already knew that.”

_I did._

“So, can I come in?”

I roughly pushed my way past her, thrusting my key into the door with a fever of worry. _Burnham will not like this one bit._ The door opened, revealing the blackened state of my living room as the blinds covered up most of my household. Katrina remarked of how dreary my house looked, completely ignorant of the terrible state of my eyes.

“You don’t mind if I use your restroom first?” she inquired. Her coat was speedily taken off, and she was now bending over to untie her knee length boots.

“Its down the hall and to your left.”

“Thanks, Gabe,” she spoke out with a certain familiarity. “I won’t be long.”

I watched her leave, and only then hung up my wide brimmed hat on its appropriate hook. _I need to speak to Michael._ I tilted my chin to my chest, doing my best to remove the buttons to my coat with my half-frozen hands. _I must explain things to her, before its too late._

Burnham was idly standing in the kitchen; her eyes alighted the second she caught my moving figure curling around the corner of the doorway. I strode right towards her, never letting up until I could lay both of my hands on her. I knew I had to whisper, given the fact that Katrina was right down the hallway. “She asked to come inside, and I couldn’t refuse her,” I breathed out nervously. “I will have her gone as soon as I can.”

“You said you haven’t spoken to her,” Burnham spat out with jealousy.

“And I haven’t.”

“Then why is she here?” She looked dejected in my arms, pained that the woman she most feared had trespassed into our household- our little stretch of paradise.

“I intend to find that out.”

“She wants you.”

“She’s married.”

“And yet, she comes here without her husband.”

I looked over my shoulder, hearing the bathroom door being open. _Katrina will come looking for me._

“Stay out of sight,” I begged of Burnham. “If you can go upstairs and change into… clothes…”

“My old uniform,” she said with repulsion, and looked down at the fine navy-blue uniform styled dress I had purchased for her only a few days ago. It fit her small curves perfectly, sculpting her body like a glove.

“We don’t want to raise her suspicion.” I heard my name being called out in the distance, coming from somewhere in the main drawing room area. “I have to go.”

“Don’t let her stay too long.” It was abrupt, unlike the Burnham that was usually politely civil to me. _She’s speaking from her heart._

“I won’t.” I laid a kiss over her lips, holding it there to sooth out her nerves. “Stay safe.” I left her with that, briskly walking out of the room to meet an old lover. Katrina was standing in front of a painting on the wall, an image of a small cottage over a starlight sky. She smiled at me the second our eyes met and had no qualms to be the first one to speak.

“You like dark things, I see.”

“I’m fond of the stars,” I told her. “I have developed an interest in astronomy- the study of the universe.”

“The only thing my husband cares about is the past war, and hunting when he finds the time. If it wasn’t for his established military career, he might have become a poacher… probably joined the Hudson Bay Company by now.”

“He likes to kill wild animals?”

“Foxes, beavers, caribou, anything he can find in this part of British North America.”

“Is that where he is now?”

“No.” She smiled at me cunningly, and then crossed her arms across her chest. Katrina was always a strong woman; the fairness of her face could not detract the strength to her. “He is out doing the same thing as me, inviting people to his next party.”

“Oh.”

“I heard you left early.”

“Yes.” I dragged my hand down the side of my face, rubbing it along the soft hairs of my sideburns. “I wasn’t feeling well.”

“You looked just as shocked as I was.” She stepped forward, positioning herself right in front of me. “It’s good seeing you again, Gabe.” I blinked down at her, distrusting every word single word that she had said. “I want you to come to the party, that’s why I came here myself.”

“Why?”

“Because its been a long time,” she wisely replied. “And seeing you, brings out some old memories.” Her voice lowered substantially as she stated, “My father died a couple years back, but he still talked about you from time to time.”

“Even though he was against me marrying you.”

“It wasn’t him!” she exclaimed. “It was _me._ ”

I sighed in front of her, wishing she didn’t have to bring up the past.

“I know you wanted me too, but I couldn’t see you that way.”

“Yes, you made that quite clear.”

“And then you ran off.” She caught me biting down on the corner of my lip, trying my best to hold back my tongue. “I might have changed my mind, you know.”

“Don’t give me false hope,” I found myself saying. “You rejected my proposal and there was nothing left for me to stay for.” My voice raised louder than expected as I added: “And I remember you telling me about a certain competitor that had the means to support you financially.”

“I was wrong about David.”

“Is that what you came here for?”

“I wanted to explain that I _might_ have made a mistake.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It might,” she said through tightly pursed lips.

“No,” I drawled out slowly. “What is done is done.”

“So, that is your answer.”

“Yes.”

She nodded her head stiffly, seeing there was no chance to continue the things we used to do a very long time ago. “Your still invited to the party,” she relayed, and then reached into a small bag she was carrying to hand me a letter. “I want you to be there, Gabe.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“I asked around…” she looked over my shoulder, to focus on the entranceway of the dining room. “…to see if you were with someone else.” She smiled at me, but it was a false one. “They said you’ve been a bachelor for as long as they can remember. But… I think they’ve got it wrong.”

I narrowed my eyes at her, watching her sly movements as she walked towards the coat rack to put on her winter clothing. She avoided my gaze, intent on leaving the house without another word.

“Its still the same,” I told her. “I’m still a bachelor.”

She put on her boots, ignoring my words as if she didn’t believe they were true.

“And I’m quite happy the way things turned out, if you even care.”

“I do,” she answered me, while she tied up the boot to the left of her.

“Its odd that you should end up here, Montreal of all places.”

“Maybe fate has other plans for us,” she muttered out. She rose to her feet, buttoning up the last of her coat that was just under her chin. “But judging by that extra set of plates in the dining room, I gather your bachelor life isn’t the same as it used to be.” She stared at me long and hard, trying to read my impenetrable facial expressions. “Tell _her_ … I said hello.” Katrina opened the front door with annoyance, and then descended the steps with a certain madness to her, as a wave of jealousy appeared to be corrupting her soul.

* * *

“Throw it in the fire.”

Burnham watched me lean over the fireplace, the envelope hovering over the flickering flames. “You will not have me go?” I teased.

“So, she can dig her claws into you, then no.”

_My Burnham’s tongue seemed to be sharper than ever._

“I like you this way.”

“Gabe.”

“I’ll do it.” The unopened envelope lightly floated downwards and then scorched within seconds by the heat of the fire. “There, its done.”

Her hands were all over me the minute I straightened my back, her face pressed over the top of my spine with a sense of relief.

“You heard every word, didn’t you?”

“I was hiding in the kitchen.”

“Hmph.”

“I wasn’t wrong about her after all.”

“I don’t understand… she’s married.”

“And that means nothing to her?”

“What is she even thinking? An affair… in this town, why word would spread so quickly we would be caught within days.”

“Maybe she never intends to stay here that long.”

“I’m not having it.” Burnham’s hands smoothed over the front of my stomach, it seemed that jealousy was bringing out a lustful side to her. I smoothed my hand over the top of her forearm, always enjoying when she showed a certain level of affection.

“What do you think she will do?”

“Katrina?” I asked. “About what?”

“She saw the way the dining room was set up.”

“Ah,” I voiced aloud, realizing what Burnham was subtly implying. “She must have noticed on her way back from the restroom.

“And what do you think she will do?”

“Be her normal self and start asking people questions.” I smiled gratefully, knowing she wouldn’t hear a word from anyone.

“She might figure it out.”

“No woman in their right mind would think I would be having a relationship with you, Burnham. No, we are perfectly safe for the time being.”

“You didn’t have to say it like that,” she complained, and immediately dropped her arms away from me.

“I’m only saying it is an advantage,” I reasoned. I turned to face her, seeing the lines over her forehead showed her level of frustration. “I’m sorry.”

“It was rude.”

“It was,” I laughed. “You are quicker to scold me, I notice.”

“Yes,” she said with a smile. “I suppose so.”

“I’m glad.” I leaned in, letting her know I wanted a kiss from her. “Well?”

“I don’t think you deserve it,” she half teased.

I kissed her lips anyways, knowing it was only a matter of time till she gave in. My Burnham did eventually, wrapping her arms around me to pull me into her slender frame. _I really do love this woman._ A curl of her tightened locks was rubbed between my finger and thumb, feeling the smoothness of her hair as our kisses deepened. Lunch was completely forgotten; it was more interesting to taste her lips instead. She broke away after a while, patting me on my chest like she normally did when she was pleased. “Apology accepted.”

I laughed at her, laying a hand over her ass for half a second. “You better leave,” I warned, knowing exactly where my thoughts were turning too. The look in my eyes was fairly obvious, and Burnham left the room with a quicker step than usual.  

* * *

It was early in the evening when I heard a knock on the door, and Burnham did her customary action of straightening out the blankets and ensuring the place left no trace of her domestic life with me. “I’ll be in the kitchen,” she suggested. I glanced over to the ledge near the front door, eyeing the wooden chest where my revolver was stored. _Let’s hope I don’t need it,_ I thought, and then mournfully opened the front door.

I never expected Samuel to be standing in front of my doorway, holding up a sweater I had leant him some time ago. “Sam?”

“You mind if I come inside for a bit?” he asked with some level of hesitation.

“Come in!” A wave of the hand followed, and I happily watched an old friend step through the doorway. He placed the rugged brown sweater in my hands, and then preceded to take off his hat and coat. “Its nice of you to drop by.”

“If I knew you would be this happy, I would have done it sooner.”

“Ha!”

“I’m sorry about the last time I was here,” he explained. “I was just angry, you know.”

“We all were.”

“Things are going well between you and Michael?” he asked, while he was hunched over on the ground to slide off his boot.

“Its going _very_ well, thank you.” I stepped backwards, while my eyes continued to rest over Samuel. “I’ll call her over now.”

He smiled wickedly at me after I hollered out her name, hearing the cheerfulness betrayed in my voice. Michael stepped into the hallway with hesitation, but once she saw my grin, she knew everything was alright.

“Samuel?”

“Good evening, Michael.” The two of them wordlessly looked at one another, reading each other for a few seconds until Samuel could read that everything was fine between Michael and I. “He changed his mind.”

“Yes.”

“He’ll let you keep it.”

“Yes.” I went over to Burnham, wrapping an arm around the back of her shoulders to pull her into me.

“I am… pleased.” Samuel walked over to us, his dark brown eyes studying us carefully. “I… can take the child when its time. It will be hard having one here without a lot of questions. My people will accept them if I go further up north, it will give the child enough time to grow up without ever having to be a slave.”

“Yes, but for how long,” Burnham reminded him. “He cannot escape the chains of enslavement forever.”

“Long enough.”

“Until they drag them away.”

“It might be a better life, than the one they will lead if they stay _here._ ”

It was my turn to speak: “We’ll talk it over, if it ever comes to that.” I looked down at Burnham, knowing she won’t like what I had to say. “The minute the child is born they will become a slave.” I swallowed hard while continuing, “ _My_ slave.”

“That’s just…”

“I know,” I cut in, sensing she was at a loss for words. “But it’s the law.”

Burnham looked down at the carpet floor, not wanting to speak to Samuel and I further. She broke out of my arms suddenly and walked away from us to head towards the back of the house.

“Where is she going?” Samuel asked, while looking over my shoulder.

“She needs some time to herself.”

“You will consider what I said, won’t you?”

“What if I keep them both here?”

“Let the child stay?” I nodded my head at him in reply, knowing he would disagree with the statement anyways. “Then everyone would know what you have done.”

“What if I want that?”

“Gabriel,” he warned. “None of it would end well.”

“What if I don’t care what people think?”

“You are getting _emotional._ ” He raised his hand over my chest, letting his fingers lay over the sweater that he returned to me. “Think things through.”

“I am thinking it through.”

“No… you’re not.”

“Why is everyone allowed to have some sort of happiness except me?” I heatedly asked.

“What do you think people will do to you when they find out? How will you be treated? You’re a respected man, Gabriel, a general. Do you really want to throw that all away?”

“For _her_ , I will.”

“Listen to me-”

“-I am!”

He watched me walk away from him, tossing the sweater over the arm of the couch. I was beyond furious, irritated that I wasn’t allowed to have my way.

“If you were smart you would send her way, let the child be given to someone.”

“You want me to give away my own flesh and blood?”

“Don’t you want to keep this a secret?”

“I did.”

“You don’t care anymore,” he contemplated aloud. “You’ve gone bold, and Burnham will have to pay for it.”

“What do you mean?”

“What do you think will happen the minute she leaves the house?” I thought of her going to church every morning, carrying out a few small errands from time to time to get a breath of fresh air. “How will people treat her once they find out the truth?” Samuel demanded. “Or when you leave the house! What will stop them from trying to break in? From raping her! From burning down the damn house!” I had heard enough, and instantly reached forward to grab a hold of Samuel’s neck. He was making chocking sounds, trying to take in a breath once my grip grew stronger. “Gabe…”

“Not another word,” I warned in a dark voice, and then released my grip with a look of resentment.

He was coughing, the sound igniting the air. I heard Burnham’s footsteps padding across the hardwood floor, and soon she was watching Samuel hunched over as he tried to catch his breath. I looked guilty under her gaze of scrutiny, knowing she was slowly putting the pieces together.

“I’m not letting that happen,” I bellowed loud enough for the two of them to hear. “Michael! Start packing up my belongings from now. We are leaving town.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of drastic turn of events in this chapter. Feel free to write below of what you think of Gabriel and/or Burnham's decisions so far. 
> 
> Hopefully I can update another chapter soon (though my other fans are demanding I update my game of thrones fics lol). We shall see,
> 
> petyrbaaaeeelish


	22. A Vow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is the two month anniversary of Gabriel's friend and formal slaves death. When standing at the grave sight of Tollen, things became clear for Gabriel and he now knows what he truly wants in life.

Two days had passed, and Burnham and I were standing in front of a stubby grey tombstone, so insignificant it would claim no others attention but ourselves. She stood a little off to the side to me, giving me enough space as I stood there silently grieving. It was a cold frosty morning, grey and lifeless as the dead tree that swayed overhead.

No flowers lay over his grave, but I remained there, fixated on that polished circular stone in remembrance of him. I had Burnham in my life now, but I still deeply missed my old friend and counsellor, Tollen. He was years older than me, fine bristles of grey hair coming out of his cleanly shaven head; his eyes round and dark, but quick to read any possible thing he managed to lay eyes upon. He was never a slave to me. I did my best to make his life comfortable: clothing him, feeding him plentiful food, giving him rest and every comfort he quietly requested. Tollen often expressed his gratitude to me, saying he wished more white men were like myself. I wasn’t perfect, I knew, but there was something in his eyes that believed it was so.

I wanted to outstretch my hand and take Burnham’s, and yet, the openness of the cemetery would never allow me to do such a thing.

“You would have liked him,” I said over my shoulder, ensuring my gaze never fell upon hers. “You are very similar in a way… the same sort of spirit.”

“Spirit?” she inquired softly, not loud enough to arrest any passerby attention.

“A strength,” I reasoned. “A determination for a better life.”

I remember holding Tollen’s hand when he was dying, staring into those eyes that looked so calm and content. “Thank you, Gabriel,” were his last words and then he leaned his head upon the pillow to stare at the ceiling. I knew he was thinking of his wife then, the one that was forcibly taken away from him since the laws of the land did not recognize them as man and wife. He often spoke about his Annie, pretending she was alive when he knew she had died over ten years ago. _Maybe he will be with her now._

It was almost an hour, so I took one last look at his grave sight and then turned away from the spot. Burnham remained where she was, knowing she could not stay in proximity with myself. I ventured around the cemetery, knowing the forsaken shambles of stones and large rocks signified each person’s grave. Tollen had one of the nicer ones in the Negro cemetery, a parting gift I gave to him after he left me that fateful day.

 _Has it really been two months,_ I wondered, and yet it was exactly two months on this day that he departed from this life of enslavement.

I heard Burnham’s boots softly crunch through the snow, letting me know she was not so far behind me. I lowered my hat over my head, sheltering me from the bright lights of the sun that were determined to further injure my eyes. There were a few people walking down the pathway that led out of the cemetery, none of them having the same skin tone as myself. I noticed how they departed from the path just to avoid me, darting their eyes elsewhere as they passed me by.

None of their clothes are as nice as Burnham’s, I took note. There is an obvious show of favouritism here.

I glanced over my shoulder to see her gaze directed to the snow that was currently under her feet, unaware that I was watching her for a moment more. Her wide brimmed hat was like mine but had more feminine features to give it a distinguished look; the long black cloak descended to the tops of her ankles, sheltering her entire form from the cold. The trimmings of her navy-blue dress could be seen beneath it, one of the finer ones I had purchased from her.

 _She looked healthier than most,_ I observed, as I continued to walk down the dirt pathway that was crusted over with a thin layer of snow. _Happier too._

The cemetery was in the lower parts of Montreal, and so most of my trek was uphill to the nicer parts of the city where I currently resided. I knew most of my day would be spent packing up my things, and then glancing over the local newspapers to see a house that was befitting of our circumstances. No where was safe, Burnham kept reminding me of that daily, but I hoped for some place where we could find some level of peace at least.

I was just walking up a steep hill, when a tall man recognized me from the other side of the street, tilting his hat respectfully at me before he made a deliberate effort to cross the road. “Monsieur,” he said out of respect, and then glanced over my shoulder to stare at the woman behind me.

Hugh Culber must have thought he was clever, but I could see through his façade. Why he took an interest in Burnham was a mystery to me, but it seemed there was something about her that interested him greatly.

“Mademoiselle,” he uttered in a smooth tone of voice as he approached her. Burnham appeared a little surprised by his open address, almost blushing if her skin tone was a little fairer than it was now. “I have not seen you in these parts of town.”

“I was visiting the cemetery,” she answered him back in English, it was clear they were doing it for my own benefit.

“With your master,” he observed, and then looked over his shoulder to stare at me with purpose.

I cleared my voice with purpose and then bellowed out: “We should get going.”

The man tilted his shabby little hat at me, and then descended the steep hill at a brisk pace. I shot Burnham an annoyed glare, and then continued my way upward knowing our conversation would have too wait for another time.

* * *

“You are still mad,” she observed, after I closed the back door behind Burnham. “But you shouldn’t be, Gabriel.”

“Why did he have to cross the bloody road just to speak to you?”

“Je ne sais pas.” The sudden change in language only proved that she was thinking about Hugh, an incident that aggravated me greatly. “You shouldn’t be jealous,” she chided, already sensing where my thoughts were turning too.

“I do not like it.”

“He only regards me as a friend.”

“Friend,” I echoed darkly. “Would a friend cross the street to speak to me, only to gain a minute in your presence- no Burnham, it isn’t a friendship at all.”

“The way he speaks to me is only on friendly terms,” she assured me. “He is in no way as vocal or open about his intentions as you were.”

I smiled funnily at her, remembering the old days when I pursued her without a sense of reason or common sense in the matter. _But I have her now,_ I thought, _and I wouldn’t change it for the world._

Burnham walked past a stack of boxes that held my belongings, taking her time to remove her coat as the warmth of the house gradually hit us. I stayed behind, struggling to untie my boots, the idea to remove my gloves before entering the house was backfiring on me now. I heard her make her way down the hallway, entrancing me with every step. We had gotten closer over the past two days, hopeful the more she assisted me in packing away my things. I suppose it was the amount of time we spent together, hard labour and collaboration had strengthened us in more ways than one. I had no visitors over the past two days too, so it was her and I from morning to sun-down. I heard the ceiling creaking overhead, informing me that she went upstairs to change. I took myself to the kitchen, determined to boil water for a hot cup of tea and search the pastry box for something to eat.

There were some cinnamon scones she made yesterday morning, enough to break fast for her to start our Wednesday off on the right footing. I prepared the dining room for us, not removing my winter clothes just yet. The fire was next to attend too, watching the spark sputter and start at the bottom of the grate for a moment or more. The house was blessedly quiet as the fire rose, tiny wafts of smoke ascending into the air. I heard Burnham making her way downstairs and decided to greet her. “You haven’t changed?” she observed in a loud tone of voice.

“I was getting things started for you.”

“Thank you, Gabriel.”

She was quick to wrap her arms around the back of my neck, staring into my eyes lovingly. Her love for me grew, it has never been more evident until now.

“I wanted you to rest a little,” I assured her. “You have been working hard these past few days.”

“So, have you.” She kissed me then, long and full of life, which took me entirely by surprise. I gripped my hands into the sides of her waist, intoxicated by her lips that were going deeper into me. _My things have changed._ I leaned back, letting her dominate me for a little, it was nice to have her take charge for a change. She gripped her hands into my hair fiercely, letting her nails dig into the back of my scalp. I felt her breasts push hard against my chest, and Burnham was quickly making me lose it. I kissed her back fervently, lifting her off the ground as I arched myself backwards. Michael smoothed her hands through my short locks, letting it rest over the top of my head before she let it glide down the sides of my face.

“Burnham, stop,” I pleaded in between a kiss, knowing she was just arousing me more. She giggled softly, tilting her cheek to the side to let me lather my lips all over it. “You’re cruel.”

“No, I’m not,” she taunted back, hugging me tighter to make sure there was no space between us. The water was boiling loudly inside of the kitchen, so I slowed down my endeavours knowing one of us would have to separate soon.

“I will have to turn off the stove,” I mused aloud. I broke my arms away from her, startled to see she still had a hold over me. “Burnham?”

“I don’t know if I’m finished with you yet.”

“Such a change in mood,” I observed, never seeing this side of her before. “Everything alright, Michael?”

She smirked at me playfully, letting a single finger glide along the outside of my right ear.

“We have to eat first,” I told her, sensing where her thoughts were turning too.

“Must we?” I raised my eyebrows upwards, and then narrowed my eyes at her with suspicion. _She isn’t acting like her normal self._ “I suppose we must.”

“It would be advisable.”

She licked the whole of her bottom lip, and only then released her hold. Burnham glided away from me in a taunting manner, heading towards the kitchen knowing full well that I would follow her.

I was always the one pursing her, so when it was her that kissed me that way and suggested we go upstairs I was left completely confused. I suppose she felt safe with me now, confident enough in our relationship to suggest such a thing. She was busily turning off the stove and arranging the cups on the tray to get things set up for us. I returned to my normal custom, crossing my arms and leaning against the open doorway to simply watch her. The whole scene reminded me of our first few times together, and I only realized now how things had changed.

“What are you thinking?” she asked with her back to me, her voice shaky and unsure of herself.

“I’m still taken back by what you’ve done.”

“Why?” Burnham asked in a high-pitch voice.

“Cause its different,” I explained. “Not like your normal self.”

“Woman have urges too, you know.” Her hands halted over a rim of a cup, regretting the words that poured out of her mouth.

“I know.” I leaned off the doorway and slowly strode my way towards her. She did not appear timid under my relentless gaze; it was quite the opposite. Her noble chin raised high in the air, unafraid of my presence after I stood right in front of her. Her true strength was presented to me now, strong and sure of herself. I took her right hand, cupping it emphatically in both of my own as I held it in front of my chest. Our stare lasted for a long time, and I only broke it to raise her hand to my lips and kiss the back of it. “You’re my equal,” I found myself saying, which defied all the laws that determined our lives outside of these walls. She batted her eyelashes at me in surprise, startled to hear such words escape my lips. “I only wish I could marry you, Michael.”

“But… its impossible.”

“Technically, yes.”

“Technically?”

“I cannot go to a magistrate or a priest and have it formally done, but…” I reached for her other hand, holding them tightly with an honest look in my eyes. “… but we can still do it.”

“How?”

“Slaves have always been able to marry other slaves,” I reminded her. “Not formally done, but it is made so. Why can’t it be the same for us?”

“Because you aren’t one.”

“I know that,” I retorted in a calming tone of voice. “But…” I licked my lips nervously after I lowered my gaze away from her. “But I want you to be my wife, if you’ll have me.”

“I will have you.”

“Then we simply say vows to one another, and it will be so from this day forth.”

“Gabe?” she cautiously asked. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” I brought her closer to me a little more, staying near the heat that was coming off the cooling stove. “Michael,” I uttered out in a clear tone of voice. “I vow to serve you, protect you and be a devoted husband to you from this day forth, as God is my witness.”

She looked nervous for half a second, but then made a silent resolve in her head to respond in turn: “And I vow to serve you, Gabriel. To be your wife, and to love you all the rest of my days… as God is my witness.”

I leaned in and encapsulated her lips beautifully, making her my bride from that moment forward. She wrapped her arms around me feverishly, smiling against my lips the more I kissed her. _She was mine,_ I thought, _and rightfully so, I am hers._

 


	23. Celebration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael and Gabriel celebrate their wedding.

The dining room table was decorated with a tray of candles, illuminating the room in a fanciful way. Light shimmered from Michael’s dress; the dark coppery colour accented well with her skin tone. I stood in front of the open doorway, holding the last tray of roasted carrots in my hands, taken in by the sight of her as she sat there waiting for me. I smiled at her, it spread widely from ear to ear, carving unknown lines across my face from pure happiness. _She is my bride._

There was almost a glow to her, for she shared the same joyful sentiments to myself. I placed the tray down, smoothing out my guild waist-coast of gold with spotted patterns of dark shades of bronze and gold. It was one of my finest apparel, an occasional garb that was most appropriate for tonight. Our feast of celebration was laid out before us, left for only us to enjoy.

I implored Michael to be remained seated while I dished out the food, stating she had done enough work for the day. She was pretty in her dress, so enchanting it was difficult to keep my eyes away from her.

“I poured some wine for you,” she piped up, after a few moments of me spooning food onto her plate.

“I noticed.”

“It’s a special occasion.”

“Our wedding day,” I agreed. “And you have one for yourself as well.”

“I do,” she answered me with half an eyebrow raised. “Though it is unlikely that I will drink it all.”

I smiled at her slyly while gibing, “You don’t have to Burnham.”

I lowered my head offering a small prayer, and then took to the meal Burnham had graciously made for us. The fire cracked beside me; the roaring heat bringing life into the once cold room. I sipped on my wine leisurely, knowing I could control myself for once. I was supremely happy, undeniably so, the mere sight of her in the dress with her warm brown eyes settling on me made my chest heave with gratefulness.

“Have you ever imagined your marriage like this?”

I settled the cup down, contemplating Burnham’s question for a moment. “Not really, no.”

“Neither did I.”

“I never expected myself to get married,” I informed her. “After Kat rejected me, I thought all hope was lost.” My fingers got lost in the back of my hair as I scratched at my scalp. “That is, until I met you.”

“I feel so blessed,” she relayed. “So lucky to have you.”

A comfortable silence fell in between us, while we got lost in each other’s gaze. I placed my fork down on the table and reached forward to grasp at our hand. “I want to find a nice place for us to live, Michael.”

“I know you do.”

“Somewhere isolated,” I entreated. “A place where I can take you outdoors undisturbed.” I smiled at her as I added, “We can walk through the forests together, and stay outside to look at the stars.”

“You really think we can do that?”

“I think so.”

“Its impossible, Gabe,” she complained, and lowered her chin to her chest with some regret.

“No.” I squeezed her hand with affection, objecting to her statement with small movements. “I believe it _is_ possible.”

“It will have to be very far away from here.”

“I will look further up north,” I suggested. “I was looking at advertisements in cities that speak only English, but now I think we should get away from everything. There must be plots of land that no one wants anymore after the war. If I get you some French speaking newspapers will you look for me, translate it and-”

“-of course,” she interrupted. “I will help you.”

“We can have a life together,” I told her. “I can make you happy.”

“I know you will.”

I squeezed her hand for the second time, delighted by her words. She was so special to me, my valuable treasure, the dearest thing in the world.

“A family,” I uttered softly. “If that’s what you want?”

“I don’t know.” Her eyebrows lowered over her eyes with worry. “It is a lot to ask for… to ever dream of.”

“But their life will not be easy.”

“No.”

“I’m in no hurry,” I assured her. “Let’s just find a new place first, and then figure it out from there.”

_Far away from prying eyes, and people asking me all kinds of questions._

“Gabriel?

“Yes.”

“Do you think I came into your life for a reason?”

I answered her instantly with a nod of the head, and then softly uttered out: “Yes, I believe so.” I looked at her lovingly, seeing the orange hue of the candlelight illuminating her face. I loved her, the very beating in my chest quaked at the sight of her.

“If only everyone could be as happy as I am.”

“Meaning?”

“People like me,” she softly answered me. “I’m like one in a million.”

“Yes, I agree.”

“And- and its not fair,” she stammered out with a look of dejection.

“Burnham, I’m just happy you’re here.”

“But its not-”

“-focus on me,” I begged of her. “Of us… this moment.”

“I am.”

“Then look at me,” I pleaded. “Really look at me.” Her gaze raised upwards, staring into my eyes for some time until a reluctant smile formed over her face. “I can’t save everyone, but I was able to save you.”

“You never saved me,” she rebutted with a steady gaze. “You’re just the first to open your eyes and see how things really are.”

“And what is that?” She smirked at me, and then released her left hand so she could take up her knife and fork. “Burnham?”

“That we could be equals.”

* * *

It was the early afternoon when one of Carl’s slave girls came into the room with enough treats to satisfy my friend. He never acknowledged her presence as he went on about his daughter, detailing the plans he and his wife had to visit her in another month. “And she is two months pregnant,” he joyfully relayed. “I like her husband, a lecturer of sorts at a University. Intelligent, quick-witted… the sort of man I picture my Jenny to be with.”

A round buttery scone was picked up, his cup of tea forgotten as he contemplated whether he should add the expensive strawberry jam to his pastry. I was leaning against the plush pillow behind my back, staring out into the brightly lit patio in the back that was covered up in a thin layer of snow. It had not snowed today, the only reason why I allowed myself to venture outdoors.

“But you are awfully quiet,” Carl noted. He lifted up his scone as he eyed me suspiciously, and I can’t remember the last time you came around my house to just visit me.”

I turned my head to the left, making sure the servant girl was gone for good. “Can they hear us?”

“Heavens!” he exclaimed. “Is it that bad?”

“I only wish you could lock the door… or even close it for that matter.”

“One moment.” He pushed back his chair, grinding it across the hardwood floor before he swaggered towards the door. The door was shut, and then he shrugged his shoulders at me after I could see no lock attached to it. “Michael?”

“Michael.”

“And?” He returned to his seat, letting out a grievous sigh before he heard the news. “Its important, so out with it.”

“I married her.”

He was silent, though there was a darkness to his black eyes. A subtle movement of his mouth betrayed him, for it went downwards and then sharply to the right. Carl’s gaze eventually lowered, and then he took to scratching the side of his jawline where the hairs were just emerging to create a shadow of a beard.

“I did it yesterday.”

“Legal?”

“Enough.”

“So not, legal.”

“I swore an oath to her, and her to me.”

“But no legal, formalized document.”

“We both know I can’t do that.”

“So, it isn’t a marriage?”

“It’s the closest thing I can ever have.”

“You’re a fool.” He puckered his lips at me, and then let his shoulders role back with pride. “A slave girl.”

“She’s not a slave.”

“Oh, so then she’s free?”

“No.”

“Then she is a slave,” he rebutted. “No better than a prostitute, except you don’t have the burden of paying her.”

“It isn’t like that.”

“No,” he replied darkly. “Oh, and you would see it that way.”

“I love her.”

“Love?” he said with pure repulsion. “Look where _love_ has put me? In a house with a woman that despises me and is only staying because she fears of a scandal.”

“That is your problem, not mine.”

“Yes, well yours is worst,” he mused aloud. “A slave.”

“I’ve heard enough.” My plate was pushed away from me, and then I rose out of my chair with a strong desire to leave him.

“You better not tell anyone else about this Gabriel.”

“I would ask the same of you.” Carl raised himself from his chair as well, looking displeased that our afternoon should end this way. “I thought you would be happy for me.”

“Gabriel, please.”

“You know how much she means to me.”

“I do,” he conceded. “And only wish you thought this through before you created such a…”

_He won’t continue because he doesn’t wish to offend me further._

“All I’m trying to say,” Carl clarified. “Is that the marriage isn’t legitimized.”

“For Burnham and I… it is.”

“What would you have me say?”

“That you are happy,” I answered him. “That you would have accepted my invitation to come over tonight and share in our celebration. Burnham is happy, Carl, and so am I. We wanted to share it with you.”

“You are my friend.” He walked around the table and laid a hand over my shoulder. “But a friend should always tell the truth to one another, eh.”

“You will not come?”

“I think… I feel strongly…”

“You will not come?” I repeated and moved back so his hand could fall away from me. “The closest friend I have, and you can not even share your blessings with me.”

“I only worry of how it will affect you,” he reasoned. “To believe yourself legally married to a woman that is your slave-”

“-she is not.”

“She is!” he bellowed out with frustration. “Did you not buy her? Is she not legally bound to you? Then yes, Gabriel, she is your _slave._ ”

My voice was deadly as I answered back: “She is my wife,” and with that I left him.

* * *

By the time I returned home I was in a pitiful state, saddened that my only true friend would not share in my happiness. Oh, Carl most certainly had a point, but did he have to behave in such a cruel manner? No. I was disappointed in him and could only hope that his mind would change in time.

The house was silent once I entered inside of it, I glanced around the darkened drawing room noticing Burnham’s absence almost immediately. It was the day after our wedding, and I was wondering what she could possibly be doing at this moment. My outer clothing was removed, boots and hat placed neatly aside, and then I padded softly across the hardwood floor to get to her. The dining room was empty, as well as the kitchen, and when I went down to the lower quarters of the house she was no where to be found. I tip-toed up the stairs, suddenly aware of Burnham’s safety, for she was never as quiet as this. I opened my door a crack, it was devoid of her appearance, so I crossed down the last of the hallway to get to her door. The door cracked open, a shimmering yellow light could be perceived, and only then did I realize she was safe. She was in bed, covered up in blankets, trembling in pain the closer I appeared. “Michael?”

She rolled over the bed to face me, offering a sad sort of smile that showed her discomfort. “Gabe.”

“You’re in bed?” I went down on my knees, making myself level to her gaze. “What is the matter?”

“I’m bleeding.”

“Bleeding?”

“My monthly bleed,” she said with some embarrassment. “I’m in pain, that’s all.”

“Oh.”

“But I’m more sad than anything else.”

“Why?” I implored and settled a hand over the side of her face to brush her bangs backwards.

“Because,” she began in a voice filled with distress. “Because it means I’m not pregnant.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to share your reactions or what you think so far.


	24. Exhale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel goes to the doctor to investigate if he is the reason Michael is not pregnant. When he gets back he finds Michael in a mood, and is quick to play along with her little games.

Burnham was waiting for me to say something, but all I could do was let out an exhale.

“You’re not saying anything?”

I nodded my head at her in agreement. “Only because I don’t know what to say at the moment,” I confessed aloud. “How are you feeling about it?”

“Surprisingly sad.”

“Maybe… its not the right time for it.”

She rolled around in the bed, pulling the covers over her chest fretfully. “Yes, but I should be pregnant, shouldn’t I?”

_The amount of times we had done it, then yes it should have happened by now._ I moved further up the bed, reaching for her hand that rested comfortably over her blanket. I stroked it placidly, taking note of how dejected she was becoming the longer I watched her. “We can keep trying,” I reminded her. “If that’s what you want.”

“No, it must be my fault.”

“Why do you think that?”

“I should have… it has to be,” she droned from the corner of her mouth, and then sharply turned her head away from me.

“It could be me?” I suggested.

“No.”

“Burnham, you don’t know that.”

“I was a virgin,” she told me. “It should have happened.”

“I’ll go to the doctor,” I told her. “I will get myself examined, and you will see that perhaps I am right in this matter.” I leaned forward, placing my lip over her brow affectionately. I kissed her forehead, and then brushed back her lingering bangs so I could see her face clearly. “Please don’t be upset, love.”

She tilted her head upwards, letting me know she wanted to be kissed. Her emotions were strong, and all I wanted to do was ebb away her sorrow. A kiss was placed over her lips, and then I pulled back the blankets to get into bed with her.

“Gabe, we can’t do anything,” she entreated, after I wrapped an arm around her. “I’m in pain and-”

“-I know Michael.” Her body was pulled against mine, leaving no more space between us. “I just want to keep you near that’s all.”

“You truly are special,” she noted with a whimsical smile. She was quick to cuddle with me, nuzzling her head into my chest for extra comfort. _My Burnham._

“I’ll go to the doctor’s tomorrow,” I promised her, and with that I kissed her lips to satisfy my own desire. “And you’ll see that its not your fault.”

_Or I can only hope so…_

* * *

Doctor Miller was watching my pull up my breeches, absent-mindedly of course, for he was tapping his finger against the side of his temple meditatively. “And you said you’ve been sexually active lately?”

“Yes.”

He grunted under his breath, darting his eyes downward to see no wedding band on my finger.

“I want to know if I can get them pregnant,” I prompted up, trying to sound as ambiguous as possible.

“Well, you seem to check out fine,” he contemplated aloud. “You haven’t been experiencing any pain? Trouble performing when its time?”

“No.”

“I saw nothing abnormal down there, but I would encourage you to come again in another six months or so.”

“I won’t be here. I am planning to move further up north.”

“Quebec?” Doctor Miller inquired, as he dipped his hands into a washbowl nonchalantly.

“Even further.”

“You’ll encounter a lot more French there,” he warned. “And they might not like a man like you. General, right?”

“Yes.”

“I’d keep that bit to myself.” He was patting his hands into a thick towel when he added, “Resentment can go a long way.”

“So, do you think the problem is with the woman then?” I abruptly asked, for my mind was now turning to Michael Burnham.

“Possible.” He shrugged his shoulders before he folded the towel neatly in his hands. “I’d send her to a doctor too.”

_If only that was possible._

“It could fall on her shoulders or yours. At your age you should be able to produce a child if you really want too.” He paused for dramatic effect, hoping I would reveal the reason I wanted one. “There may be symptoms that I am unaware of,” he concluded. “The equipment I have here is fairly limited. You said you have no problems…” He motioned his hands in a suggestive way, unsure if he wanted to say the word aloud. “Into the womb.”

“I… I believe its fine.”

Doctor Miller scratched the bottom of his chin, feeling the smooth surface that showed he had recently shaved. “The problem may lie there,” he suggested. “You may be able to perform, but there is something abnormal in your semen.” He placed a hand over the top of my shoulder, steadily leading me to the door. “I suggest you take the girl to the doctor, though I would also advice you to marry her.” He paused, feeling a sense of regret after he uttered it. “From my experiences, we have enough children in the orphanages already. A child needs a mother, but they also need a _father_ as well.”

“Thank you for the advice,” I politely replied, though there was a coldness to my look.

“Anytime, General.” He shook my hand agreeably, and with that, the genial-like doctor sent me on my way.

* * *

It was an uncommonly warm day when I returned to the house, and Burnham had opened the windows at the front to let in some fresh air. I was not pleased to see the drapes were wide open as well and was quick to tug them back in place once I went inside of the house. Two large bowls had already been set upon the table, and I hoped no one walked up my front porch and just so happened to peer into the window. Burnham wouldn’t have thought of that, so I shouldn’t be so upset at her. _She’s in pain too,_ I remembered, seeing how slowly she was moving this morning.

I found her upstairs making up my bed, dainty hands smoothing out the freshly washed bed-sheets into perfection. “Gabriel!” she cheerily shouted out and came towards me with her arms wide open.

“Hello, Michael.”

“I made us lunch.”

“I saw.”

“Your home,” she bemused, with a large grin. A kiss was placed on the side of my cheek, and then she smoothed down the side of my hair that was matted by my hat.

I had noticed the drapes were open in my bedroom, and instantly pushed her away to attend to the matter. “Please be careful,” I growled from the back of my throat.

“I’m sorry.” Her fingers fumbled together remorsefully. “I opened them when you weren’t home.”

“You did that in the front too,” I informed her. “With the windows.”

“Gabe, I’m sorry.”

“Just be careful,” I entreated, and then brushed back the drapes carefully to make sure the window wasn’t wide open as well. “I can’t have anything happen to you.”

She sat down on the edge of the bed, tilting her body in a way to invite me to join her. I walked past the bed post, letting one hand drape along the bedsheets until I sat right beside her. A hand stretched out behind her, and then I leaned my chest into her back.

“You know I love you,” I told her, and she responded by leaning more of her weight against me. “Michael?”

“I know.” I kissed the side of her neck, brushing the side of my face against her as I dug in for more. She was delectable in her own way, and I felt like taunting her with painfully slow kisses.

“What did you do while I was gone?”

“Cleaned and cooked,” she told me with a certain lifelessness to her voice.

“Hmmmm.”

“And waiting for you to come home.”

I kissed Michael higher up her neck, taking in that familiar scent of honey that lingered in the depths of her tightly curled hair. “You sound like a wife,” I teased.

“A bored one.”

“Michael,” I chided out playfully.

“It looks so nice outside.”

“It is,” I informed after I inched my face away from her. “Fine weather we are having today.”

“I only wish I could enjoy it as well.”

I puckered my lips at her, tilting my head downwards as I considered the matter. “You know you can’t.”

“I know.”

“I can send you out on an errand, if you’d like.”

“That’s not what I meant.” She tilted her body to face me, patting her hand lightly against the front of my chest. “I meant us going out.” I laughed at her in good humour until she rolled her eyes at me, and then she responded by laying her hand harder on my chest. “Gabe,” she drawled out seductively, with a certain look in her eyes.

“I’d rather have you here on this bed,” I responded back with equal fervor. My hand lifted off the bed only to drape my arm around her, pulling Michael into my frame before I kissed her spontaneously. She kissed me back, making a noise every now and then as I taunted her with wishful kisses. “When will it stop?” I urged, as I began to lean her into the bed.

“About a week.”

“I can’t wait that long,” I moaned, before I kissed her lips seductively. Her hands slipped around my rib-case and then dragged up and down my back wantonly. Our kisses quickened, her promiscuous movement of her fingers trying to pull off my coat was ever so suggestive. “Michael, your bleeding,” I reminded her. She forced me off her only to remove the coat off my shoulders and then she took a hold of the side of my face to kiss my lips eagerly. She wasn’t behaving her normal self, far too excited to have me undressed this afternoon. I watched her unbutton the top of my shirt, seeing how those dark brown eyes darkened even more. My bare chest was revealed to her, and then she let her warm hands explore my chiselled chest before she let her thumb fluff up a bit of chest hair. I watched her, leaning back into the bed to see her sitting on the bed with a look of pure adoration. “What is it, Michael?”

“Nothing,” she lied, and then leaned forward to kiss my cool skin where my beating heart was. I pulled her into me, squishing her against my body even though she was fully clothed. I couldn’t have my way with her, but that didn’t mean we couldn’t have a little fun. Hands stroking through her hair, I watched her kiss my chest a bit harder, feeling a jab of her tongue to make both of my eyebrows raise up in surprise. “Gabe.”

“Yes.”

She moved herself backwards, her eyes filled with lust and desire.

“What can I do to pleasure you?”

I bit down on my bottom lip, revealing the whole set of my top teeth. I was unable to answer her, still to taken back by her inquiry. “Your serious, aren’t you?”

She rubbed her hand over my belly, stroking it back and forth as she waited for an answer.

“You are?”

“I’m…” Michael looked down, letting her eyes explore my upper torso with a suggestive look in her eyes.

“You are,” I exclaimed with wonder. “Well, there is something you could do.” I leaned my back off the bed slightly, feeling uncertain of whether I wanted to utter such thoughts aloud. “But it would be improper for me to ask you of it.”

“Why?”

“Why?” I echoed back. “Because most women would never do it.” I shrugged my shoulders lightly at her, which only made her reach up a hand to feel the scar at the top of my shoulder. A tiny smile tugged at her face, and then she suddenly leaned forward to kiss it. Teeth dragged down my shoulder, making my shiver as it grew harder. Her fingers hooked over the curve of my hips, and then she raised up a leg to somehow straddle me. If Michael was in pain it must have been forgotten, for she was determined to peck her lips all over the center of my chest. My hands were laid flat against the bed, supporting my body weight as her kisses increased. “Burnham,” I huskily drawled out. “There is something.”

“What?”

I raised my right hand off the bed and nudged her off my slightly. A single finger laid over the top button of my breeches before I uttered in a throaty voice: “Unbutton it.”

Michael smirked at me slyly, and then her nimble fingers worked at the buttons, letting each one release itself with an uncomfortable silence filling the air.

“The windows are closed right?”

“You closed them,” she reminded me in a voice that didn’t sound like her own.

“Yes, I forgot,” I stammered out, seeing that there was one more button left. “I forgot,” I repeated, the second she raised her gaze to lock onto mine. “Oh God, Burnham. The things I am thinking of right now.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Pull it off,” I begged, and lifted myself off the bed slightly to watch her pull it down my thigh and legs. She took to removing my socks as well, clearly aware of how pronounced my erection the longer she was prolonging the inevitable.

“What did the doctor say?” she asked me, as if the errand I performed this morning suddenly came over her. She looked at the hard mound in front of my small clothes, looking slightly grieved as the remembrance of her not being pregnant came over her.

“It might be my fault,” I told her.

“That is what they said.”

“Everything is working fine, but it might be my… it might be when I release myself in your…” I found my words failing, feeling uncomfortable speaking it aloud in front of her. “It is too hard to tell, but we can keep trying.”

“Or I’m not able to bear a child.”

“Your young, Michael, much to young to say such things.”

“But you are not old,” she argued back, and took to sitting at the edge of the bed much to my annoyance. _Why did she have to stop when we were so close?_

“I’m not,” I conceded. “But I’ve slept with other women before…” I paused once she cast me a dark look. “And none of them have produced a child from me.”

“They took something.”

“I hardly know, since I did it once and never spoke to them again.” I shrugged my shoulders harmlessly. “They weren’t you, Burnham, you know I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“You better not,” she unexpectedly warned. “But you might have a point.”

“Lorca,” I called out, which made her jerk her head back in surprise. “Mrs. Lorca,” I teased, and then cupped my mound suggestively. “You never finished what you started.”

“I’m not sure what came over me.”

“I don’t know, but I liked it.”

She smacked my foot lightly, and then took to giggling much to my annoyance.

“Mood swings?” I observed, and when she nodded her head in agreement, I let out an aggravated sigh.

“Mrs. Lorca,” she repeated, and then rolled over on the bed till she was on her knees. She crawled her way to me, straddling me for the second time before our lips connected. I brushed my hand over her cheek, pleased to see that mood returning to her again.

“You’re my bride, love,” I hushed into the air, and then brought our lips together again. Her hands were friskily moving about my upper spine, playful enough to arouse me further. I brushed my painful erection against her womanhood, but she quickly reacted by moving it away from me. “What is it?”

“I can’t,” she wheezed out, and then to my disappointment she moved backwards until she was seated over my legs. “Not now.”

I opened my mouth and promptly closed it, and then let out a deep-felt sigh that shook the air.

“Gabe?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Its only…” I placed a hand over myself again, and then looked into her eyes painfully. “I’m aching for you, Burnham.” She laid her hand over there as well, and then a sudden idea came over me. “Rub it,” I asked of her. “Hold it in both of your hands, or even one… I don’t care.”

She blinked with curiosity, and then used her hand to stroke the raised erection up and down. She heard a relieved exhale escape me, and then she realized it was only bringing me pleasure. Her hands slipped under my underclothing, and I gripped at her shoulder harshly as I felt her hand working me.

“Harder,” I breathed out, feeling my eyes roll upwards in ecstasy. “Right there.” Her hand wrapped itself around me, and her thumb was pulsing the perfect spot as she rubbed me up and down. I frantically pulled down my small clothing, revealing the truth of our soiled affair.

I placed my hand at the back of her nape and pulled her face into me, greedily kissing her as she continued to stroke me fervently. I could feel her fingers exploring me further, going to the base with curiosity. “Michael,” I uttered in a throaty voice, and bit down at her bottom lip with hot desire. “Michael Burnham.”

“Michael Lorca,” she corrected me, which brought out an unexpected growl from me.

“My pretty wife,” I sighed out, and found my hips bulking upwards as her hands slide upwards until she fondled my tip. “Will get a _good_ one after she is done bleeding,” I warned, and with that I pulled her body on top of me with her hand still on my hard erection. Hips lifted off the bed, imitating a gesture as if I was thrusting myself inside of her, only for her hands to grind itself rougher against me. I couldn’t breath, the sensation was too pure, and when I did breathe it came out loudly. Michael returned her lips to mine, making my eyes close in ecstasy, forcing me to thrust into her hand harder with a serious of grunts into her mouth. “Michael,” I wheezed, and with that I released myself into her hand. I fell flat onto the bed, her body coming down with me.

“You almost made me do it too,” she confessed through heated breaths, and I turned my head to see she had almost hit an orgasm as well. I took a hold of her with a firm grip, rolling her around the bed only to straddle her. I was determined to end our afternoon on a good note and intended on kissing Michael until she begged me to stop.


	25. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Circumstances suddenly change for the couple, and Gabriel is forced to leave the city as fast as he can.

Carl was absolutely fuming by the time I opened the front door, his chest heaving heavily with indignation. A quick scan from head to toe and he saw me nearly undressed; a feeble attempt of tying up my winter coat was still not enough to show me standing there half naked. “Gabriel Lorca,” he scolded, and then brushed his shoulder against mine to storm into the house. “How long do I have to knock on the door before you open it?”

“I was occupied.” I closed the door behind him, locking it securely before I faced his direction. “Never expected to see you soon.”

He withdrew his hat, letting his short peppered grey hair reveal itself in the dim lighting of my drawing room. There were no candles alight, and the few strays of lighting from the drapes was not enough to illuminate my room fully. I walked over to my couch, doing my best to button up my breeches without him fully being aware of it.

“Its afternoon, Gabriel.”

“And?”

“The two of you are at it like rabbits,” he spitefully spat out.

“She’s my wife,” I reminded him, and then plopped down on the couch without a care in a world. “I can do with I want with her.”

“You have her chained to the bed then?”

“Have you come here just to insult me further?” I pulled the winter jacket I had tossed on a few seconds ago across my chest, though it was still bear before my old friend. “If so, I’d suggest you leave.”

“Where is she anyways?” he demanded, refusing to take a seat next to me.

“In our room.”

“Doing what?”

“Deciding whether it is safe to come downstairs,” I said in an exacting tone of voice. “Now, will you please have a seat.”

“I never intended to stay long, and from what I can see you are quite busy.” He paused for dramatic effect. “She isn’t your wife, you know, not legally.”

I closed my eyes to hide my frustration, knowing it was only a matter of time until I would break.

“She’s a slave,” he drawled out. “And that’s all she will ever be, whether you wish to acknowledge its existence or not.”

“I’ve heard enough from you. There is the door, please leave.”

“So, she sleeps with you!” he continued. “You don’t think she does it for special privileges. What do you think will happen to her, if she refused?” He paused once he saw me shake my head in denial. “Oh, you shake your head! But you know what I say is true.”

“You saw her,” I implored. “You saw us together.”

“I saw it,” he acknowledged. “And can hardly believe it.”

“That I love her!” I yelled out with my arms stretched out in front of me. “That she could love me.”

“Its wrong,” he said through gritted teeth, and then visibly tensed once he heard a sound coming down the main hallway. “Oh, so she is here.”

I turned my head to see Michael just approaching, her gaze unwavering from the man that was defaming the very thing we treasured. My hands were pushed down on the couch to raise myself up, and then I stood tall before the man I found myself growing tired of.

“You’re not welcome here anymore, Carl.”

“I came to-”

“-you heard what I said.”

“I came to ask you if you wanted to share a ride with me,” he continued. “The party is tomorrow night and-”

“-party?” I interrupted. “What are you talking about?”

“I know you got the invite! Everyone did, at least, anyone important.” He walked further into the room with a laugh filled with disbelief. “You’re an admiral, Gabe! And besides, it was sent from none other than Katri-”

“-I’m not going.”

“Oh,” he groaned, and then cast a heated gaze at Burnham.

“I’ll have nothing to do with her.”

“You can’t lock yourself in this house forever.”

“I’m not.”

“You are,” he groaned with resentment. “What happened to my friend Gabriel Lorca, eh? Where did he go?” Carl crossed his arms and then began to pace in front of the empty fireplace with a look of purpose.

“He got married,” I told him. Carl stopped in his tracks, and then let out a chuckle that was filled with pure mockery.

“Call it what you will, but it is still a façade.” Burnham’s footsteps padded harshly against the floor, and I suddenly found her standing right next to me. She couldn’t say anything, it wasn’t her place, but she was enraged with this man who continuously offended us. “Now, enough of this! Gabe, open your eyes and see the world as it is.”

“I have.”

“She has polluted your mind!”

“Carl,” I warned in a deathly voice.

His chest was heaving violently, his lip quivering as if something was at the very tip of his tongue. He looked at me fiercely, disgusted that I should have fallen so low.

“I know you don’t love her now, but do you remember what it was like with your wife? At the very beginning? You loved her, Carl, even if it was a very long time ago.” I stepped forward carefully, so I wouldn’t put him in a state of alarm. “That is how I feel about Michael. I don’t care what colour she is! I don’t care…” I paused to take another step forward, completely encroaching upon his space. “…what the laws are, or what they have to say about her and I.”

Carl sighed loudly and looked over my shoulder just to stare at Michael.

“Do you understand what I am trying to say?”

“I do,” he consented. “And I think you’re wrong about it.” He pointed his hand over my shoulder to have it directed at Michael. “Get rid of the girl before it is too late.”

“I know you care for me, Carl. You’re like a _brother_ to me.” I laid a hand over the top of his shoulder in a friendly manner. “But I will not heed your advice.”

“Then you only bring your own destruction.” He looked over my shoulder to address Michael. “You think sleeping with him will change things, but it won’t. You’ll always be a _slave._ ” Without thinking I punched him in the gut, instantly regretting it when he hunched over in pain. Silently I watched him, seeing the way he backpedaled in fear and in pain. I was always stronger than him, it would be foolish for him to engage in a physical fight with me.

“I’m sorry, Carl, but I won’t have you speaking to Michael like that.”

He spat out on the ground in disrespect, and then pulled down his hat over his matted hair. Sable eyes were darker than ever as he glared at me, his brows lowered substantially until I could hardly recognize him at all. He darted it back to Michael, and it widened for some curious reason. “One day you will remember my words,” he warned her, and with that he threw his hat over his head and took his leave, slamming the door loudly in the process.

Michael instantly ran towards me, wrapping her arms around me in silent fear. “Gabe,” she cried out, and buried her head in the crook of my neck and shoulders.

“I know, Michael.”

“Gabe he will get the police and tell.”

“They can’t take you away from me.”

“Gabe, please.” She trembled in my arms, so fearful of what is to come.

“We’re leaving,” I reminded her. “I told you we are leaving, and that I’ll always protect you.”

“He will tell.”

“Carl will keep his promise.”

“No, he won’t! What’s to stop him?”

“He’s my friend.”

“Gabriel, please!” she entreated, after she drove her head out of the safety of my neck and shoulder. “People like him will never love me; they will hate me till my dying day.”

“I won’t.”

“You’re not like them,” she cried out with her eyes watering by the second. “Gabe, we need to run.”

“Run?”

“We need to leave.”

“Now?”

She shook her head fervently, while her dark eyes glossed over with tears. “Alright,” I found myself saying, feeling none of this was going according to plan. “But what about the house? My things? Where would we go?” I cupped the side of her cheek lovingly. “Burnham, think things through. Look, I know your emotional right now but-”

“-its Lorca,” she corrected me. “But if we stay here then it will never be that way.” She watched me sigh out in defeat, and then closed her eyes in relief when I submitted. “You can get someone to sell the house for you?”

“I would have asked Carl, but seeing the situation…” I shrugged my right shoulder aimlessly. “Michael, he won’t tell.”

“Haven’t you heard the story of Judas,” she warned in a low tone of voice, and then tilted my head with her hand to kiss the side of my cheek. _Betrayal._

“I will ask my lawyer to deal with these things.”

“Thank you,” she muttered in a soft tone of voice.

“And where we would go?”

“I’m not sure.”

“I can’t believe you are asking me to just drop my things and run.” I removed her hand from the side of my face and then staggered over to the comfy couch. I plopped into the seat, sinking deep inside of it while wondering if I should ever see such comforts again.

“You could hide me somewhere, couldn’t you?” She inquired. “I mean, its not like the police will come over and arrest you.”

“They might,” I teased, though I was somewhat ignorant of the laws at the present moment; the northern government was still evolving after the war. “Where would you have me hide you?”

“Have you any family members here?”

“My sister is in England.”

“And no one else?”

“No.”

She walked past me, brushing her leg against the front of my knees before she took a seat beside me. A hand was placed over mine, and I smiled at her small gesture. “What will we do, Gabriel?”

“We can’t keep running all are lives.”

“If we want to survive, we _must._ ”

“There must be other people out there like us, what would they have done?”

“Run,” she mouthed out softly, and then dropped her head downward to rest it over the top of my shoulder.

“How much have we packed, Michael?”

“Your important belongings and souvenirs from the war.”

“Family portraits,” I added. “Things that belonged to my father.” I paused to scratch along the side of my neck. “I always wanted to have land to myself.”

“Will you have enough money?”

“I’ll have enough.” I tilted my head in a way to kiss the top of her crown. “Don’t you worry about it, love.”

“Somewhere up north?”

“Yes,” I sighed out. “With the French, even though I barely speak a word of it.”

“Is it wise?”

“I’m not sure,” I deliberated aloud. “You would be a slave in their eyes as well.” She moved off my shoulder to sit herself upright beside me, and I noticed how mournful her gaze was. “Even the native people have negroes as slaves, but it is not as prevalent as us. If they see that you belong to me, then they will pay you no mind.”

“So, what are you saying?”

“If you are looking for a quieter life than we should go up north, well past the boundaries of Quebec city.” I licked my lips feebly as I added, “I remember the day it fell, and the French wept bitterly over its defeat, but never more so then Montreal for it spelled the end of the war.”

“You can write a book on it.”

“Maybe one day, and you will be my editor,” I teased. “But we must focus! How are we to attain land up north?”

“There must be someone you can ask,” my wife reasoned. “Do you know anyone who is French.”

“No.” I got up from my seat suddenly, and then shed off the heavy wool coat to toss it on the back of the couch. “But I will get dressed and inquire about the matter, and you Michael, shall accompany me.”

“Gabriel?”

“You know I can hardly speak a word of French.”

“You can’t bring me?”

“I can when you are my translator,” I quipped rather sharply, and with that I left her to put on something appropriate to wear.

* * *

It seemed that Michael got her wish after all, it was still afternoon when she was trailing close behind me in the broad daylight. I looked over my shoulder occasionally, ensuring she was not falling behind when we trudged over the wet snow. The sunlight was bright, forcing me to lower the brim of my hat to protect my eyes. We were heading into a part of Montreal I seldom visited, an area that was filled with predominantly French colonizers and traders. Their language echoed in the air all around us, escaping through tiny cracks of windows and by strangers down the street. I turned right and took to the hill that was steadily going downwards, catching sight of the frozen river every now and then. I was looking for a real estate agent, a shop that was apparently another five-minute walk according to a stranger. Michael was my translator, but the man of whom we spoke to refused to have any eye contact with her. She bore it well, though I caught the flicker of annoyance in her eyes every now and then.

The street was wide, decorative black lamps on either side of the street to prepare itself for the coming darkness. I knew we had a few hours of daylight left, so I wasn’t necessarily worried. I looked over my shoulder and thought my wife looked rather pretty, and when she caught my gaze, she arched an eyebrow up in warning. I was smitten with her still and knew that many years from now I would continue to feel the same way about her.

“He said its to the left,” she spoke aloud, and I nodded my head at her in agreement. The street we turned too was dark, hidden away by the sun’s rays. I felt the side of my pocket, feeling the dagger I placed inside of it for safe keeping. “We are nearly there,” Michael said in a softer tone, and I found her suddenly standing right beside me with a complacent look about her. I was tempted to take her hand, but I wouldn’t dare do it in public. “Are you worried?”

“Not when I have you here.”

“They will be rude to you since you are not French,” she reminded me. “If they try to separate me from you, don’t let them.”

“I won’t.”

“Good, but they will still try.”

I stopped in front of a shop, taking in the high glass windows. “Let them try.” Michael laughed in amusement, much to my pleasure. “You should take a step back, Burnham.”

“Lorca.”

“An old habit,” I apologized. “Will my pretty wife take a step back?”

“Only for appearances sake,” she teased right back, and then she stepped out into the high mound of snow to keep a distance from me.

“It won’t have to be for long,” I hushed, and with that I opened the front door.

Michael was correct in her assumptions; the men did their best to separate me from her. They could speak English, but it was absolutely terrible and I was having none of it. Documents were placed over the desk, written in French, and my Burnham translated it amiably. They did their best to poke holes in her statement, and she took it silently with a look that made me want to laugh aloud. One of the men left to attend to a new customer, which left me with the younger man that was more pompous than the other. “And may I inquire why you wish to live so far up north?”

“Change of scenery.”

“You are from Montreal,” he observed. “Are you a fur trader? I have heard they have been hit hard just after the war, for it was us that controlled the forts and trading posts in this city.”

“Yes, I’ve heard all about it.”

“The English colonizers think they can take it over, but they will not succeed.”

I arched an eyebrow at him questionably, wishing he didn’t have to talk politics at a time like this. “Yes, about this land you pointed out earlier-”

“-excellent land!” he cut in. “Manorial land,” he explained, and spread his hand over the map of Quebec for emphasis. “There are many that have returned to our native country. Others that have fled the land during the war, for the Indians can strike such terror-”

“-I am well aware of Indian tactical styles,” I huffed out with frustration. “Do you have any land available?”

“Yes, but it depends… how much are you willing to offer?”

“How large is the land?”

The man laid out a spread sheet that was completely in French, and Michael was prompted up to translate it for me. The man was obviously offended, feeling he could do it himself, but I expressed a desire to hear it from my own slave. Offended and beguiled the man took to grinding the tip of his feather pen quill into the hardwood table, mashing the tip to hide his own displeasure. I personally thought Michael’s voice sounded beautiful, blended with her French accent I almost wanted to take her hand in mine then and there. I grasped at her hand at one point under the table, and then settled them both over the top of her thigh just near her knee. She froze halfway through a translation, and then stammered out a sentence until she was able to regain her composure.

“I will choose this one,” I informed him, wanting to be as far from my own people as possible. I knew this area was close to land occupied by Natives, supports of the French during the war, but seeing how it has ended three years ago the hot blood had cooled, or so I hoped. “What do you suggest for luggage? Carting it, I mean.”

The man urged me to wait until the summer, but I wouldn’t hear of it. He handed me a paper to sign, leaving me for a moment, and Michael did her best to translate it beautifully for me.

“We don’t know what it looks like?” she hushed, after we heard the real estate agent close the _toilet_ door behind him. “Is it wise?”

“It would be unwise to stay,” I reminded her. “If we don’t like it then we could move somewhere else.”

“If you say so.”

“I think it’s the best decision.” I rubbed her hand happily, staring into her eyes with all the love in the world. “I shall sign the papers.”

She watched me dip the pen into the ink and scribble my name at the bottom. Once the money was handed over the land would officially belong to me. _I will own my own land and house,_ I realized, and felt a sense of pride at that. _And a wife, and if I am lucky some children._

The real estate agent returned, suddenly noticing how close my chair was positioned to Burnham. I kept my hand under the table, tightly grasping her own. _I sign the paper, so damn what he thinks._

He hesitated over the desk, leaning himself against the back of the chair. “Monsieur,” he began. “Will you be living there alone?”

“Its such a big house,” I slyly replied. “If I do, it won’t be for long until more move in with me.”

“Oui,” he answered me in his native tongue. “Thank you for signing the papers. It is time to move onto the financial components.”

I no longer needed Michael to translate anything for me, numbers were a universal language. It took us well over an hour to cover everything, and by the time we exited the shop I was tired and overly hungry. Michael quietly walked behind me, both of us taking note how busy the street was. The food shops were calling my name, but I knew there was no way Michael could be seated as the same table as me. Frustrated and overly tired, I stalked up the cobbled street, taking note of how the snow was melting even more on such a warm winter’s day. It was enough for me to remove my hat and push back my short locks to let the cool breeze blow through it.

“You will catch a cold,” a familiar voice said behind me, soft enough for only I to hear.

“Then I guess you will have to take care of me,” I answered her, without bothering to look over my shoulder.

We were entering the Anglo part of Montreal, and I feared I would run into someone I knew. It would be another twenty-minutes at least, and I was somewhat afraid of such encounters.

“That smells good,” Michael piped out of nowhere, and I looked over my shoulder to see she had stopped in front of a shop that was near the rivers bend. “Its your favourite, G-” She had stopped herself, finally realizing what she was doing. I closed my eyes in fear, realizing how close she was to utter my name.

“Wait here,” I ordered in a sharp tone of voice, and then climbed up the steps to get inside of the shop. She was right, of course, it was my favourite meal to eat. I ordered two packages of fish to go and made sure I positioned myself next to the window to keep an eye on Michael. No one was bothering her as they walked by the shop, but there would be someone at some point who had to do something to insult her. I crossed my arms protectively, feeling somewhat at ease to know she was also watching me through the glass window. My order was called out eventually, and I was relieved to have the packages placed into my arms for safe keeping. “Dinner,” I hushed, after I returned to Michael’s side. “Let’s go home.”

She never made a reply, but the sparkle in her eyes told me she was happy to have something delicious to eat for dinner. It had been a long day, and all I wanted was to rest my feet and enjoy my dinner with my wife.

* * *

“I’ll have extra security tonight,” I told her over our plate of food. “I don’t know if Carl will go to the police, or if he will just gossip with his wife. I’m not entirely sure which is worse.”

“Should we stay somewhere else?”

“I’m not leaving my home.”

“Okay.” She let her fork scrap across the bone of the fish, to flay off the stray pieces of steamed fish. “But when are we leaving to go to our new house?”

“ _Our_ house,” I repeated with a depth of feeling. “Tomorrow, if you’d like.”

“But the packing.”

“We could finish it tonight.”

“Gabe, it could take days, maybe even weeks!”

“Then I shall take you tomorrow,” I informed her. “And then return here to gather my things.”

“I suppose that might work.”

“I hardly think the police will apprehend me when the person I am married too is missing.” She laughed lightly at my witticism, and then nodded her head in agreement. “And there is nothing much for you to pack, is there?”

“I came here empty handed,” she reminded me.

I wore a smug smile at the remembrance of it. “And you leave here with my heart, as terrible as it sounds.” I reached across the table to place her hand in my own. “I only wish I didn’t have to leave you alone in the house for so long. Days? Weeks maybe?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Its dangerous.”

“Safer than being here.”

“I suppose.” My thumb stroked the back of her hand affectionately. “But you’ll be out in the wilderness… in the cold.”

“I lived in Quebec; I’m used to this.”

“Yes, but this is even further up north,” I reminded her. “And I won’t be there to keep you _warm._ ” She giggled at my statement, and I let my hand slip down her wrist to carve my fingers down her arm. “Are you sure, you will be alright?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“I will pack up some things after dinner. We leave for our new home at the break of dawn.”

* * *

I left her that evening to call for a carriage. Unfortunately, it would have to be a shared one until we reached the city of Quebec. A private carriage would be much to expensive for my current budget, but the lingering feeling of not being able to sit with Michael during the long ride was taking its toll on me.

I also visited the bank before it closed, taking out a loud sum that raised the eyebrows of the teller. I thought it should cover the journey up north, it would take me weeks to get there, it was beyond the realm of urban civilization.

On the way home I dropped off a letter to my lawyer, informing him that I had a desire to sell my house. It would rouse suspicion to be sure, but there was nothing I could do about it. I had to leave this city before it was too late, Michael and I lives were at stake.

Twilight was upon me by the time I approached my house, taking note of the absence of the moon’s rays tonight. A storm was coming, so I quickened my steps to get to the front porch. I could see no candlelight visible from the tiny cracks of the blinds and could only hope Michael was waiting for me upstairs. The door was opened, a hush sound descended throughout my house, and I suddenly wondered if it was smart to leave her alone this evening. I removed my shoes, but left the rest of my winter apparel on, only to sprint up the stairs to make sure she was there waiting for me. Michael was fast asleep in my bed, her body covered in thick blankets to keep her warm and safe. I smiled at the sight of her, and then walked back downstairs to secure all the doors and windows before I went to bed.

The low thud of something woke her up, and she blinked open her eyes to see me sitting up in the bed beside her. “What was that?”

“A gun,” I whispered, and then pointed to the large musket I placed atop of my bed-stand. A silver-sheened dagger was right next to it, sheathed safely to prevent any accidental injuries.

“You are worried someone will break in?”

“I have my suspicions.”

“I was right about Carl, wasn’t I?”

“I’m not sure.” The blankets were lifted upwards for me to dip myself inside of the bed, covering myself instantly once I was leaning against the side of Michael’s arm. “I never hit Carl before.”

“You would kill for me?”

“You know I would.”

“They would arrest you.”

“And hold me for trial and kill me, but I will do it anyways.” I pressed a soft kiss against the side of her arm. “But it would be worth it, if there is some margin of hope that I could protect you from them.”

Michael nuzzled herself against me, laying a hand over my abdomen to keep me close.

“Tired Michael?”

“When I bleed I have less energy,” she confessed. “And I think I’ve had enough mood swings for one day.”

“I liked one mood of yours.”

“Yes, I know,” she mouthed into the side of my arm. I tilted her body away from slightly, trying to catch her eyes in the darkness of the room. She was a silhouette to me, a fact that made me brush my hand down her frame. She was hardly surprised when I leaned forward to encapsulate her lips, kissing her in silent wonder as a part of me feared this was all too good to be true.

“We’re going home,” I told her, and then leaned in to kiss her lips again. Her hand brushed across the side of my cheek and then her fingers rubbed along the length of my sideburn. A peaceful sigh escaped her as I began to kiss her lips harder, tasting her, enjoying the feeling of her body underneath me. I straddled her somehow, dragging my hands down the bottom of her ribcage until I felt the curve of her hips. There was no intention of taking things far, I had no desire to make love to her tonight, I only wanted to enjoy the pleasures of kissing her.

Michael gripped on the curve of collar, pulling me downwards so we could keep kissing. She was just as hungry as I was, so clearly aroused with the idea of me being on top of her. “I love you,” escaped my lips somehow, so I pressed my lips along her collarbone. She pushed me head upwards, forcing my gaze to fall on hers. “But you knew that already.”

“I love you too, Gabe.” She kissed me after that, and then patted on my chest to let me know she wanted to go to bed.

“We might not get to do this again for some time,” I reminded her. “Are you sure you want to stop now?”

“I’m tired,” she whimpered, which made me lift my leg up and crawl to my side of the bed again. “I’m sorry.”

“No, we should go to sleep,” I agreed. “Long day of traveling ahead of us.” I felt her toe drag down the length of my leg playfully, still feeling a high from me having kissed her. “I will miss this place though.”

“Its your home.”

“It was,” I conceded. “But it was more a home for Tollen and I, than it can ever be for you.” I rubbed a hand down the side of her arm as I cuddled myself closer to her. “He would be happy for me.”

“You think?”

“Yes,” I confidently answered her. “And he would have said I was lucky to have you.”

“You are.”

“I am,” I giggled, and then dropped my head down on her chest. Her hands fluffed up my hair, stroking it fervently as we listened to one anothers breath igniting the air. The moment was serene, so peaceful I felt a warm glow in the center of my heart. I was hopeful for a future, a future that I could share with her.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am going on vacation for a bit, so this will be my last update for two weeks at least. I hope you guys are enjoying the story and thanks for sticking around.
> 
> petyrbaaaeeelish


	26. Fredrick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel has to stop his journey early for his and Michael's own well-being. While they are stuck in an isolated town a series of events occur, which forces him to break his own pledge for one final time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the sensitive material in advance. I would love to evade the harsh reality of things, but sometimes there are things you simply can't avoid. 
> 
> If it helps, there will always be a light at the end of the tunnel (at least for my story).
> 
> petyrbaaaeeelish

_This was a mistake._

The carriage continued to rock back and forth as we wound our way uphill, leaving the city of Montreal at my back. I was squished between an elderly gentlemen with his wife and middle-aged man doing his best to read his newspaper in the darkly lit carriage. The air was stuffy, and I felt I could hardly move my arm to get into a more comfortable position. The matter was only made worse knowing I was separated from Michael; her kind of people wasn’t allowed to share the carriage with me. I knew she was at the very back, perched on a tiny seat that could hardly contain her from falling off. _She’s probably frozen by now,_ I thought, and tilted my head to the left to see the snow had picked up.

_This was a mistake._

The man flipped his paper loudly, and then bumped his arm into me to adjust his glasses. I did my best to suppress a groan, feeling he was taking up more space than he needed too.

 _A few more hours of this until we make our first stop off,_ I contemplated. _Michael will be frozen to the bone before we even get half-way there._

_I’ve had enough._

I leaned forward and rapped at the front of the carriage so the driver could hear it and continued to do so even when the passengers inside loudly protested.

The carriage stopped, a heavy thud sounded in the air, and then the driver trudged his way through the deep snow to pull the door open. “Yeah!” he drawled out in a roguish accent, the kind that came from the very slums of society.

“I changed my mind.”

“You… changed your mind,” he said with half sarcasm.

“I’ll just take my luggage,” I told him, and pushed my way into the marriage couple so they could move. “Excuse me.” The woman was quick to scold me with that sharp tongue of hers, but I simply ignored her. I dropped down into the snow, taking in the sharp wind that came whistling straight into my face; my hat nearly fell off till I took a hold of it with two hands to settle it down.

“Which one is yours?”

“The large black one,” I shot out. “It looks like a box.”

“Leather?”

“One not covered in snow.”

“Oh, so I have to take down all of them,” he complained. I made sure to take out some cash and count it in front of him. “I’ll be compensated for this.”

“You will, sir.”

He shot me a sly grin, and then climbed up the front of his carriage to retrieve the things. Meanwhile I strolled around the back to take a look at Michael, seeing her shivering to the bone as she crushed her body among the other three slaves with her. I offered her a sad smile, and then outstretched my hands to pull her down from her high seat. She was silent once she stood in front of me, but I could tell in her eyes that she felt some relief. The saddest part was, Michael was the one best dressed out of the four of them.

“Let me get my things and then I’ll get you something warm in your stomach,” I hushed, and then let her go of her to not arouse anymore suspicion. The driver was still unloading the luggage, and the occupants had nothing else to do but share their complaints with me.

“What’s the meaning of this?” the woman cried out, after she cracked open her door. “We have somewhere to go, you know.”

“My apologize, madam.” I nodded my head remorsefully at her. “And to your husband as well.”

“So inconsiderate,” she spat out, before she slammed the carriage door on me. I took a glance at Michael in the corner of my eyes, seeing she was doing her best to suppress a giggle.

“So inconsiderate,” I echoed near her, which only brought her hand over her mouth. I had to do my best to hold back a chuckle as well, so I turned my head away from her to see rows of houses on the other side of the street. “I chose an odd place to stop.”

She nodded her head at me slightly, unsure if she should reply to my statement aloud.

“A real mess I’m in,” I sighed out, and then went over to the driver to hand him the necessary cash for taking us this far. The luggage was lifted with two strong hands and then I trudged through the snow behind the carriage, heading towards the coal black houses that looked like they had been burnt by fire long ago. Michael stepped closely beside me, her body still shivering from the ceaseless cold. It was amazing to think just a few days ago I was watching snow melt outside my front door, but the higher we ventured up the St. Lawrence River, the colder it would become.

It felt unnerving just how quiet the street was, not a sole was seen near the outside of the buildings, it was the back of the buildings that claimed my attention. “I hear noises,” I told her, and then wished my weapons weren’t safely stored away at the bottom of my luggage compartment.

“Voices.”

“It should be fine.” I did my best to ignoring the charging voice, loud and angry-like, and headed towards the closest shop within my view. The front door easily opened for me, and I could tell it was a café of some sort. The place was empty, and no one was at the front counter much to my dismay. I held the door open for Michael, letting her slide in first before I withdrew into the building as well. Luggage placed down near the front of the counter, I reached for a bell to send someone over. _Cling, cling,_ echoed throughout the whole shop, and then I heard footsteps descending downstairs. “You must be hungry,” I whispered over my shoulder.

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not,” I knowingly replied. “I’ll hire another carriage, but this time it will be just for us.”

“That’s expensive.”

“I’ll not have you get frost bite,” I half taunted, and then stopped once I heard footsteps rounding around the corner of an open doorway.

“Hello,” an Englishwoman said, she was tall and roundish in figure. Her hair was covered in a white scarf, though a few of her dark brunette hair came peaking through.

“Hello.”

“Looking for something to eat?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Have a seat anywhere.” She pointed out to the endless empty tables spread out across the front of her parlor. “And she can have a seat in the back.”

“Back of where?”

A tense silence followed, so long you could hear a pin drop.

“Where the slaves go,” she relayed to me, as if I was a complete idiot.

“Of course,” I lied, and offered her a fake smile.

“Don’t worry. No one will take her off your hands, we have plenty already.”

The fake smile grew enormously, and I found it was just her luck that I was in control of my ever rising temper.

“Go on!” she shouted out and flung a towel in her hand to wave Michael away from me. She went scampering off into the darkened hallway, and my eyes followed her with fear.

“I promise nothing will happen to her,” the waitress assured me. “Have a seat, anywhere you want, sir.”

I took the seat closest to the open hallway where Michael had just left, having trouble with my hands because they kept on fidgeting with things.

“Tea?”

“Yes, please,” I offered in a hush voice.

“Black?”

“Not today. I’ll have it with some milk and sugar.”

“Coming right up,” she bellowed out, and then stepped down into the same hallway that Michael had gone through. I removed my gloves, stuffing them into my pockets nervously. I didn’t like the fact that we were separated, and the haunting man’s voice that came from the other side of this establishment was prying away at my brain.

A minute passed by, and I removed my coat as well, while blue eyes stared down the darkened hallway to at least hear a sound.

Footsteps approached, and the woman was wearing a creamy white apron over her navy-blue dress. She appeared to be in uniform now, and the sharpness of her breath told me it was all done rather quickly. “We have sandwiches,” she began. “Or soup, if you fancy.”

“What kind of soup?”

“Mushroom soup.”

“Oh.”

“Tomato soup.”

“Ah.”

“Chicken, but it will cost you extra.”

“Chicken will due, and one order for my slave as well.”

“I gave her something already.”

“And what was that exactly?” I slyly asked.

“Bread and water,” she said through gritted teeth.

“Add a soup on the side, will you sweetheart.”

She smiled at me, though there was something menacing to it.

“We have a long journey to go, and I will not stop for a whole day or more,” I lied. “And I will need her in tip-top shape once we get there, so anything will help.”

“She’ll be in it,” the waitress replied with malice.

“Excellent.” My fingers were interlaced together, and I settled my hand over the center of the table. The woman disapproved of my concern, but I didn’t care the least. “You happen to know where I can call for a carriage?”

“There’s a lodging down yonder, about three houses down. You ask for Charlie, and he’ll help ya.”

“Charlie.”

“Cousin of mine.”

“I will do so.”

“And you can stay there for the night, if needed.”

“Indeed.”

She curtsy to me slightly, and off she went with a much happier gait this time.

 _I only hope they don’t give Michael chicken broth,_ I thought, and took a mental note to stuff as much food into my pockets as I could for her.

The front door swung open and a hoard of British traders filed in through the doors, about seven of them in total. They took one look at me full of idle curiosity, and then sat on the other end of the room assuming I was not one of them. The waitress came downstairs to take their orders, half flirting with a few to get an extra tip. The men were a bit rowdy among each other, but it didn’t seem to bother me that much.

The waitress returned to my table a few minutes later with a pot of tea in hand and a cup to my liking. “I’ll be back for the milk and sugar,” she sweetly relayed, seeming to be in a better mood than before. I caught one of the men looking at my luggage, a tiny nod of acknowledgement came in my direction, and then he reached into his coat pocket to retrieve a flask.

 _A bit early for drinking,_ I thought, and then turned my attention back to the black tea bag settled at the bottom of my pot.

The door opened a third time, and it was a tall, burly looking man that stomped down the hardwood floor. He looked left and right at the people in the room, and then headed straight towards the front counter; leaning forward he seemed to be looking for someone who worked here, and then out of nowhere he yelled out: “Marianne!”

The waitress came stumbling down the staircase at a frantic pace and turned the corner with slightly flushed cheeks.

“Where is your husband?”

“He’s in the kitchen.”

“Tell him to prepare more food, we got a whole hoard of them coming. We lucked out; we sure did.”

“A whole hoard.”

“You’ll see,” he laughed, and with that he stomped down the floor again to head out the door.

I stirred the spoon into my cup absent-mindedly, starting to worry over Michael’s well-being. I had half a mind to go to the washroom to simply look around the house, but I would be a fool to leave my belongings here for one of those men behind me to simply steal from it.

A man dressed in black walked out of the same hallway, going around the front countertop to head towards the door. His eyes were filled with alarm, his breath coming out shakily until he nearly ran towards the door and flung it open. “What the devil?”

I looked over my shoulder, wondering what all the commotion was about.

The front door shut, and the same man walked briskly back to where he came from.

“What you reckon happened?” one of the traders asked the other, and soon one of the men closest to the door opened it. “Well?”

“About twenty men out there,” the man replied with a British accent mixed with something else. “And a broken carriage.”

“Broken?”

“Yeah, something must have come off.”

“A big carriage?”

“Come have a look.”

The men seated at the table stood up and peered through the crack of the door. “They are just slaves,” one of them muttered, and he was the first to take his seat.

“Slaves up for the picking,” another one smartly replied. “I could get a deal off that one. There is no way they can move along anytime soon. You see the back of that thing, its blown right through.”

I tightened my hand over my teacup, nervously looking into the darkened hallway that was uncommonly quiet.

_I should go find her…_

“Watch out! Some of them are coming.”

I turned in my seat to see some of the men heading back in their seat, while two of the traders leaned against the doorway with the door still cracked open. They slyly pushed open in time for a small man to step into the doorway, shivering violently as the cold got to him. “Bloody cold out there,” he jeered, while his piercing blue eyes scanned the whole area. “Look at you lads!” he happily pointed out. “Might make use of you. I’m sure you’ve seen our hardship outside. Back of our carriage broke, it might be because we exceed the weight limit, so it looks like its your lucky day.” He stepped into the center of the room, nodding his head slightly at the waitress that was now entering the room with my bowl of soup in hand. “I’ll decrease the price by half if you take a few off my hand. None of them are injured, I promised you that. All ripe and healthy for the picking, you can’t get any better than here.”

“How much?” one of the traders asked with a bored expression. The slave trader picked up on this man’s offer instantly, pulling up a chair at their table to talk some business.

 _No matter how far we run we can’t get away from it,_ I mused, and looked up at the waitress that was leaning over the countertop trying to catch the slave trader’s words.

“Will you get one?” she asked me softly, once she caught my lingering stare. I shook my head in the negative, not wanting to engage in that business any further.

“I’d get one, but we have so many already.”

I batted my eyelids at her with disinterest and then took to my soup again.

“You might go visit my cousin, Charlie!” Marianne suggested to the slave owner. “He’s got a nice little lodging two doors down.”

“Lodging?” the short man piped up with luminous blue eyes, and there was nothing left for him to do but smack his hands together with excitement, and then urge the men at his table to purchase the slaves now before they were all gone.

Marianne approached my table, and piped up: “So, how is the food?”

“Its fine.”

“Traveling far?”

“I will be.”

She stared at my face a bit hard, enough for me to realize she was attracted to me. I lowered my eyes instantly and settled it over the curve of the circular table instead.

“Traveling for business?”

“Leisure.”

“You think you would be going the opposite direction.”

“I purchased a house,” I offered out, and then raised my eyes to meet hers. “So, I suppose its both.”

“That will be nice,” she smoothly relayed, and then offered me her brightest smiles. I knew she was married because of the ring on her finger, so I found her flirtatious efforts in vain. Unfortunately for me, it wasn’t enough to deter they slave trader from coming my way.

A chair was pulled out from my table, a deep clearing of his throat and then the man offered me a harmless smile. “Hi.”

“Hello.”

“I’m sure you heard of my misfortune.”

“I did.”

“The men at the table there already are willing to purchase two. How about you help a friend out and get one as well.”

“I’m fine, thanks.”

“Oh, another one won’t hurt you.”

I raised my chin upwards, locking my cold blue eyes onto his. “I’m fine.”

“Can’t blame a lad for trying,” he sheepishly replied, and then raised himself from his seat. “If you change your mind, I’ll be out there.” A thumb pointed over his shoulder, motioning towards the front door he would soon walk out of. “Hope to see you there.”

I grunted under his breath once he left, and then cast a cold look to the waitress that was still lingering. “I’m fine, thanks.”

“Oh,” she giggled, and with that she left me as well.

* * *

The woman couldn’t hold back the smile as I laid out the coinage in front of her, giving her extra now that Michael was back at my side. “Thank you kindly, sir.”

“I’ll just have those buns wrapped up,” I rapped out quickly. “Something for the journey,” I lied, for it was actually for Michael to eat later on.

“Yes, yes,” she said with some impatience. “And I hope to be seeing you again, sir.”

 _I’m sure you would,_ I thought, and did my best to not look at Michael at that moment.

“Its not often that we get such civilized folk,” she murmured softly, and then darted her eyes over my shoulder at the table of fur traders that were getting louder by the minute. “Once they have some liquor in them-”

“-like all men, ma’am,” I cut in.

“Yes, well, have a safe journey. Tell my Charlie that I sent you over, eh.”

“I will.” She waved me a goodbye, letting her gaze last longer than I wanted too. I nervously walked by the group of men, making sure I was the closest thing to them so they wouldn’t pay Michael any mind.

The cold air blasted against us immediately, and with some reluctance I let the door close behind me. I never had time to tell Michael about the broken-down carriage, or the multitude of slaves simply standing out in the cold with their wrists and feet chained to the broken-down carriage. She halted for a moment, and I did my best to move her from the spot with a heavy hand pressed against the center of her spine. “Keep moving.”

The same slave trader as before was trying to call me over, but I ignored him and walked past a building to get to Charlie’s lodging.

Michael leaned against the back of the wall once we got inside, and I dropped my heavy luggage in front of her feet. “Don’t move,” I warned her, even when I saw the pain betrayed in her eyes.

A man was at the front counter chatting happily with a co-worker, and his face brightened at the sight of me. “Welcome! How can I help you?”

“I came to inquire after a carriage driver. Have you anyone around here?”

“You can have Wesley here,” the man answered me, and pointed at a younger gentleman that didn’t seem happy he was volunteered.

“You can take me to city of Quebec?”

“That far?” the men asked me at the same time.

“I intend to go even further, but I will hire someone else if you’d like.”

“Give us a second,” answered the man in command, and off they went around the corner to talk out their secret plan. It gave me an opportunity to look around the run-down apartment space, all scorched and frazzled from a fire they must have occurred a few years ago. _They are lucky this place is made of stone._

Michael looked warmer than before, once I finally turned my head to look at her. A sad smile was offered towards me, and then she fidgeted with her gloves nervously. I offered her a sad sort of smile as well, and then looked away from her to recollect my thoughts.

“Alright!” the older man called out, after he stepped into the room again. “My cousin will take you, but it won’t be cheap. He’s a hired hand here, and I don’t want to lose him for longer than I should.”

“Then perhaps you can offer someone else.”

“No one else,” he quickly rapped out with a glimmer in his eyes that I didn’t like it. “This is a small town, sir, we don’t have men simply riding carriages to and fro.”

“Alright, how much?”

He gave me a sum that immediately made me grunt aloud. “I’d do better to hire a slave outside to take me.”

“Then where would you get the carriage and horse, sir?”

I tilted my head to ponder his statement, and then agreed he was in the right. “Alright, but I will give you only half now.”

“Done.”

“I presume your Charlie.”

“In the flesh,” he answered me with a smile that made his dark moustache look quite funny. “Give him twenty minutes.”

“That will do.”

“Though it would be smarter to lodge here and start off first thing in the morning.”

“Smarter, but I am short on time.” It was another lie, but he didn’t have to know that. “I’ll just wait here then?”

“Yes, that will do.”

There was a set of chairs on a wall on the far side, and I took a seat quietly with crossed legs. “Burnham come,” I instructed her in a stern tone of voice, since Charlie was still standing in front of the countertop. “You need rest,” I said as an excuse, and pulled out a chair closest to me to be seated. I could feel the heated gaze of the man at the counter, but he said nothing, and soon concentrated himself on his papers in front of him. “I’ll get my luggage,” I huffed softly, and stood to my feet to retrieve my things.

By the time I returned to my seat Charlie had slipped out the room for the moment, allowing Michael and I to instantly lock eyes with each other. “How was your food?”

“Gabe, outside.”

“I saw.”

“Its terrible.” She shook her head violently. “Sickening.”

“I can’t save them.”

“I know you can’t.” I laid a hand over hers, looking entreatingly into her eyes that were determined to evade mine.

“What will you have me do, Michael?”

“Nothing.”

Steps were retreating, and I quickly let my hand fall over my lap again, pretending I wasn’t holding Michael’s only a moment ago.

Charlie informed me that everything was ready, and then bid me a goodbye in his own charming way.

The carriage was incredibly small, but sturdy, and I thought it would suit Michael and I just fine. I was just walking down the steps when I heard a loud shrill and looked past the carriage to see a woman crumbled over the snow. Two men were telling the aging woman to get up- a slave, and a whip seemed more constructive to use than their own words. “Grandma!” echoed into the air, over the snow, and drifted its way to me where I stood there motionless. A boy was trying to pry the woman up, but one of the slave owners pushed him back, tossing him into the snow.

“Are you coming?” I blinked the lids of my eyes and turned my head to the carriage driver with his arms open wide to retrieve my luggage. “I might need your help putting it up atop, it looks heavy.”

_This doesn’t bother him at all?_

I blinked at him in confusion, and then stepped forward to lift my fine leather container to bring it over to Wesley.  “Burnham go inside,” I ordered out sharply, once I caught her in the corner of my eye watching the whole thing. “Burnham!”

She suddenly came out of her reverie, eyes watering with emotion before she charged into the carriage and closed the door behind her.

“Hard of hearing?” Wesley asked. He was atop of the carriage, using rope to secure my luggage; his back to the commotion that continued to ring through my ears.

“She heard me perfectly fine.”

“They should just kill her and be done with it.” He tore off his glove to stuff it in his mouth, and I instinctively knew what he was referring too.

The slave traders seemed to have the same frame of mind, for a shot went off and all went quiet. I ran around the carriage to see the snow covered in the woman’s blood, with only a hand stretched over the top of the snow for me to see. The little boy fell to the ground weeping, and no one bothered to do anything to comfort him. _The poor child,_ I thought, as he clung to his scrap of clothing with a lifelessness in his eyes.

“We can head out now.” I blinked suddenly, and then looked behind me to see Wesley was seated comfortably in his seat. “The snow is light, and I’d rather we get moving.”

I looked over to the slave owners yelling at the rest of them, too angry to think anything through. The boy remained on the floor, and they chose to ignore his weeping for now.

“Sir?”

I ignored him and stepped forward, following the shallow pathway made by frequently travelers to get to the slave traders. I wasn’t in the right set of mind, I knew it by the way my hand was shaking, and I thanked God that I was currently unarmed.

I stopped in front of the broken carriage, sensing it was beyond repair just by the look at it. These people would be out in the cold for days, especially if there was only one lodging in this entire area and it wouldn’t be allowed for people like them. The boy was still weeping, I found my eyes landing over his, taking in the back of his head that was bent forward in grief.

“How can I help you?”

I turned my head, seeing the same man as before standing right beside me with a lean musket in his hand. “I changed my mind.”

“Thought you would.”

“Looks like you won’t be leaving here anytime soon.”

“No, we just down on luck.” He pointed at the dead corpse sprawled out on the snow. “If they give us anymore trouble than she is just one of many.”

“Is he giving you trouble?” I asked, and stealthily pointed my hand at the boy that was now wiping away his tears. _He is ease-dropping,_ I realized, and did my best to smile at that fact.

“Not if I put a bullet through his head.”

“I’ll give you this,” I offered, and handed him a stack of bills for him to take.

“That should be enough.”

“His name?”

“Fredrick,” he spat out, and then pulled out a whip unexpectedly to lash it at the boy’s back. “Come here!” The boy staggered forward, bent over in pain with his entire face drenched in tears. “Stay where you are.” The man pulled out some papers for me to quickly sign, and then handed me a sheet that stated the boy now belonged to me. “Take him.”

“Come,” I ordered in a low tenor, and then made a point to walk as far away from his grandmother as I could to take Fredrick with me.

* * *

It had been well over twenty minutes before Michael finally spoke to me. “You didn’t think this through.” The boy was sitting just opposite her, wearing my outer coat to keep him warm and my handkerchief in hand.

“I thought you would be pleased,” I hushed, partially relieved that she broke this vow of silence.

“You asked me to be careful and I can, but he is just a boy. What will stop him from telling our secret?”

“Michael he is a child,” I insisted. “A child that lost his grandmother, or did you not see it?”

“I saw it,” she whispered, and then looked away guiltily. “I’m sorry.”

“No, you are in the right… as always.” I leaned into her ear as I added, “But we must tell him.” My back was straightened, and then I wrapped a long arm around Michael to catch the child’s attention. I was correct in my assumption, for he stopped wiping at his face and merely peered at the both of us.

“Fredrick, my name is Gabriel Lorca.” I turned my gaze to the beautiful woman beside me. “And this is my wife… Michael.”

 

 

 


	27. A Little Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel finds himself warming up to little Fredrick, and it feels like he is steadily becoming a part of the family.

The boy lowered his head substantially, settling it over his small chest as he took in my words.

I turned my gaze to Michael, noticing she was also filled with concern.

My eyes fell over Fredrick again, seeing how he was carving his nails into the seat just beside his knobby knees. “It’s a secret, of course,” I clarified aloud. “For obvious reasons no one can ever know.” I cleared my throat briskly, trying to maintain some form of command. “That is the only condition of you living with us.”

“Gabriel,” Michael scolded me.

“Would you have me say it in a nicer way?”

She nudged her elbow into me playfully, forcing a laugh escape my lips. Michael leaned into my body more, grateful that we were finally allowed to showcase our affection for one another. Fredrick eyed us wearily from time to time, and other small moments he would look at the pulled drapes as if he could see outside.

“I’m sorry about your Grandmother,” Michael softly uttered. The boy ignored her and moved further back in his seat once she reached out to try and touch him.

“Let him be,” I murmured next to her ear. A heavy hand rested over the length of her arm, and I pulled her into me further so she could try and get some sleep.

* * *

A long hour passed away where Michael fell asleep on my shoulder, and I in turn stared at the closed drapes absentmindedly. Fredrick was sprawled out on his side of his seat, resting his weary head over the palm of his hand. He was such a small thing, possibly seven or eight years old, but the thinness of his limbs made it so hard to judge.

I was pleased that he trusted us enough to fall asleep, taking my warm jacket over the length of his body as a comfortable pillow. It was too bad I felt a bit cold, but the closeness of Michael made me feel less of a chill.

A small part of me worried about another mouth to feed, knowing this carriage I currently hired would take a large portion of the cash I had on me. We would have to eat cheaply from now on, and not overdue anything.

_Speaking of food…_

A wrapping was unraveled to find four small buns, and I happily took one to chomp on; at that moment Fredrick peaked open his right eye, so I offered him some bread to nibble at as well. Fredrick ate it greedily, showing his hunger was more than I could have ever expected. There was some reluctance when I offered him a second, but the last one was kept for Michael- not even the adorable look on Fredrick’s face could change that.

“How are you feeling?” I inquired. Large rounded eyes stared at me wearily, and then glossed over with water at the mere thought of it. “I’m sorry.” A small sniffle escaped the boy, and then he curled his hands over to fists to dab the back of it onto his closed lids. “She’s in a better place now.”

The sniffles grew louder much to my dismay, enough to rouse Michael out of her sleep. She had no qualms to come out of my arms and went over to the seat that Fredrick occupied to comfort him. To our surprise he fell into her open arms, and there he stayed.

* * *

The driver was beyond annoyed when I stopped at the edge of the road with my trousers half undone. It was really the boy that needed it, but I pretended I had to go to the washroom to not hear a word of complaint. Fredrick was further off than I was, looking timid and shivering in the never ending cold. I released myself as much as I could, and then used my boot to kick up some snow to cover it.

A loud sniffle escaped me, so I wiped the back of my hand against my cold nose. “Fredrick, your almost done?” The boy came scampering towards me like a dog, which brought a frown over my face. “You could have taken your time, I’m in no rush.” Dark brown eyes stared into my profile, and then he took a step forward to be at my side. I found myself scratching my fingers into his thick hair, pleased that it so closely resembled Michael’s. “Time to go back inside.”

Wesley was leaning over his side of the open carriage at the back of the compartment, readjusting his cloak to keep him more covered. “How much further?”

“I fail to understand.” The carriage door was open for Fredrick, and then I shut it to retain the natural warmth.

“You are going to stop at some point, aren’t you?”

“Yes, when we reach Quebec City.”

“I’ll need to stop for the night,” he told me. “I’m not familiar with these roads and its nearly dark.”

“I had no intention of stopping.”

“I had no intention of going _all_ the way,” he sharply shot back. “There is no snow for now, but once it comes down and its dark you will be pleased you listened to me.”

_The man’s got a tongue on him._

“I have enough to pay for lodging of my own, but not yours as well.”

“Take it out of the final cut,” he suggested. “I can pay for my own room, it will be worth it in the end.”

“Alright! Where is the closest one?”

“Give it another half hour if the winds are kind,” he proposed. “Its called _The Calden._ ”

“Cousin of yours owns it?”

“No,” he laughed. “But I know the owner.”

“Suits me fine.” A wave was offered in his direction, and then I went inside of the carriage to be with Michael again.

She was quick to fall into my chest once I came in, complaining of the coldness of my coat much to my amusement. “We are taking up lodgings.”

“We are?”

“It was highly recommended.”

“We have been traveling all day.”

“Yes, but I will be separated from you.” Her hand curled into the front of my coat, tethering with the fine wool that was soft to the touch. “And Fredrick.”

“You know I will take care of him.”

“I know.” We turned our gaze to the small boy who was startled by our concern, it was as though he had never felt love before- at least not from anyone other than his grandmother.

I cleared my throat and asked him: “Are your parents still alive?”

“I don’t know.”

“When were you separated from them?”

“I don’t know.”

Michael’s hand went heavier on my chest, and I realized it was a touchy subject for her as well.

“What is your last name?” I inquired. “If I have time, I will look into the records for you.”

“Pine.”

“Fredrick Pine?” He nodded his head woodenly at me. “I will try and look for them as well.”

“Timothy Pine,” he whispered softly. “And Welma.”

 _All typical British names,_ I noted, and thought they must have belonged to a slave owner with a surname of Pine at some point.

“Any siblings?”

“No.”

“And your grandmother was… from your father’s side?”

“She wasn’t my grandmother,” he softly replied. “I just called her that.”

“Ah.”

“She was… like a grandmother to me,” he offered out gently. I felt the grip on the front of my coat grow harder, and knew Michael was growing emotional. I slipped an arm around the woman I loved and placed a tender kiss at the side of her temple.

“We are your family now,” Michael insisted, and in that moment, I knew she was right.

* * *

I practically ordered Michael to take a bath first, even though she objected to it most profusely. I knew she was in pain (though she hid it well) and the bleeding was causing her more discomfort than she would have voiced aloud.

In the meantime, I was stripping up the single bed to put some sheets down on the frigid floor, knowing the boy would want to sleep by himself tonight. _Michael will be with me,_ I thought, with something of a smirk on my face.

“You are taking a bath next,” I told him. It was unlikely there would be enough fresh water for myself as well, but Fredrick needed a bath more than I. His clothes were ripped to shreds, and I could smell his body odour wafting off from him.

Fredrick watched me lay down a pillow for him, taking note that there was none left for Michael and I. He blinked at me slowly, confused why I should show him so much consideration. “Are you hungry?” I inquired, and he nodded his head at me soberly. “I will see what I can sneak upstairs for the both of you.” My hands were laid over my hips as I contemplated the matter, and then considered how much money I could spare for the night.

_It looks like I will be going to bed with an empty stomach._

“You are very quiet, aren’t you?” A silence was my only answer, and then I chuckled softly before I took a seat at the edge of the bed. “Are you cold?”

“Not really.”

“It could be worse,” I mused aloud, and then pushed back my dirty blond hair away from my forehead. “I’m ready for bed,” I yawned, with outstretched hands high up in the air. “Are you, Fredrick?”

“A little.”

He appeared to be more comfortable in my presence, a tiny smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Did you have an assigned bed-time like most boys?”

“No.”

“Well, you will now,” I taunted. “So, you can grow tall and strong like me.”

The bathroom door open, and Michael stepped over the threshold with half closed lids. She was fully clothed, and I noticed how her hand rested over the front of her stomach in pain. I was quick to stand up and take a hold of her, gently leading her to the bed so she could have a seat. “There, love,” I whispered, and kissed her on the side of her cheek with affection. “I know, I know.”

“It will be fine.”

“You must be hungry too.”

“Oh, I couldn’t put anything in my stomach right now.”

“How are you stopping the bleeding, if you don’t mind me asking.” She raised an eyebrow in amusement. “What?”

“I can’t stop it, Gabriel,” she nearly laughed. “I use a small cloth from stopping it from spreading though.”

“Ah.”

“And I have enough, so you don’t have to worry.”

“If you say so.”

“There is still some fresh water. I divided it into a separate bowl, but it won’t be enough for three people.”

“I’m not taking one tonight, only that handsome little boy over there.” I knew Fredrick was overhearing our conversation, so I shot him a wink when he finally looked over. “Alright, come on.” A hand rested over Fredrick’s shoulder, and with that I led him into the bathroom to clean himself up.

He had scars running down his back. Grime and dirty covered the whole of his body, so much that I used up every last drop to clean him off. Anger rose inside of me with every pasting minute, and by the end I had to leave the room so Michael could towel him off.

A pipe was stuffed into my mouth, and I lit it swiftly to breathe in the tobacco. The only window in the room was cracked open to let in some fresh air, and I just stood there as if I could forget everything for a moment.

“Gabriel?” I looked over my shoulder to see Michael standing in front of the bathroom entrance-way with Fredrick at her side. “Will it be alright if I let him borrow your clothes just for tonight? I don’t think he should sleep in his own. I would like to scrub it down-”

“-with what water?”

“None.”

“Then…”

“There is a bristle brush, and that will be enough.”

“Go ahead, Michael.”

I heard my luggage compartment creak open, and I knew she was digging around it to find something warm for the night for Fredrick.

_What a day…_

A steam of grey smoke escaped my lips, billowing into the air effortlessly. I was beyond tired, and the frustrations of the day was catching up to me. _It didn’t help that I had to put up a fight with the manager just to get my so called ‘slaves’ to sleep in the same room as me…_

“The floor is cold, Gabriel.”

I shut the window knowing our voices could travel, and then walked over to my wife to inquire after the matter. “What would you like me to do?”

She raised up an eyebrow, catching a  tenseness in the tone of my voice. “I was only going to suggest he sleeps with us?”

“There isn’t enough room.”

“Its large enough… I would know.”

“How?”

“Gabriel,” was all that she said, and then I realized she must have been in this kind of situation before.

“I’m sorry, Michael.”

She lifted the sheets off the floor with her other hand palming my pillow successfully. “Its perfectly fine.”

“I’m going downstairs for something to eat.” She chose not to respond and simply set up the bed for the three of us. “I will try and bring up a plate so we can share it.”

“Thank you.”

“I know your not hungry, but I want you to eat something.”

“Fredrick can have most of my meal.”

“Michael I won’t have you starve.” Her hands halted over the bed, stopping for a moment to simply look at me. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she cooed, and with that she finished up the makings of our bed.

 


	28. Love and Hate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The presence of Fredrick makes Gabriel seriously reflect on the colour of his skin and how high the walls stand between them. Meanwhile, Michael and Fredrick's relationship grows stronger, allowing her to teach him life lessons about the tumultuous relationship between love and hate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been ages since I updated this story. It feels good to be back again :)
> 
> On a side note, I just read an article called, "From White Racist to White Anti-Racist," by Tema Okun, which really opened my eyes to the changing perspectives Gabriel is encountering as he moves up and down the "ladder" to identifying his relationship with coloured people. I feel like he is struggling with guilt and shame because of the society that surrounds him that oppresses coloured people, while harboring anger for having to stand up for Michael and Fredrick's rights. I think he also allowing himself to identify his former prejudices and maybe even taking a deeper look at himself. Fredrick's suspicion towards him makes him uncomfortable, creating a wall that he is determined to break down but isn't exactly sure how it can be done. In a sense this is a short chapter, but I think it is a rather self-reflective one for Gabriel. I hope you enjoy it all the same.

“Is that all?” My arms were crossed over my chest as I narrowed my eyes at the two meagre boiled eggs rocking back and forth over the stark blue plate.

“They’re for the negroes, yeah?” one of the servants asked me in front of the kitchen door. The plate remained in his hand, making the eggs shake across the smooth plate as he held it in front of me. I was beyond exhaustion, and the lack of sleep made me more irritable than normal. “Do you want it or no?”

“They’ll be skin and bones by the time I get to my destination.”

The man simply pushed the plate into the center of my chest, trying to intimidate me with his brutish manner. He was young and ignorant, and if he was trying to make it a point, he chose the wrong day.

The door opened behind him to let another kitchen staff through, a larger man that pushed aside his co-worker before he worked his way around me. I maintained my hardened gaze upon the dark-haired man, taking in his boyish looks that made me think he had not even reached his twentieth birthday yet. “So, do you want it or no?” he demanded, once he had his fill of me staring at him.

“I want twice as much.”

“That’s all they are getting.”

“The amount of money I payed for my servants I think I deserve a little more than that.”

“Why are you harbouring them upstairs anyways?” The man lowered the plate to let it settle it the narrow gap between us. “Why aren’t they in the slaves’ quarters? And why are you fetching _their_ food, when they should be getting it themselves.”

“I’ve had a bad experience once, and I hope to not have it again,” I lied. “I want twice as much food, and if you put up a fuss I’ll have to speak to the manager.”

“Go ahead.”

I stared him down harder, resisting the impulse to seriously hurt the man.

“I don’t care,” he warned, and then dropped the hard-boiled eggs on the ground before he turned his back to me. He thrust the swinging door open and walked inside, and I had to count to five inside of my head before I allowed myself to move away from the spot.

The manager was at his front desk, so I informed him of his staff member’s rude behaviour towards me in a calm manner. It would not be wise to make the situation bigger than it was, for they were already suspicious of my unusual habits. They would have a heart attack to know I shared my bed with Michael and Fredrick, or that most of my food was rationed and brought upstairs to give it to my “slaves.”

“What exactly do you want, sir?” the heavy-set man heaved out by the end of my tale, clearly wanting to get rid of me as soon as possible.

“I have a long journey ahead. I simply want my slaves well fed. I intend to stop at nightfall, but even that is up for debate. All I want is something more than a single boiled egg for the each of them. You are a rational man, to be sure.” I straightened my back as I gave the man a serious look. “I hope you can understand my predicament.”

“I will send a plate upstairs for you.”

“Thank you.”

“Have you eaten, sir?”

“In your fine restaurant,” I complimented him. “And enjoyed it thoroughly.”

The man smiled at my flatteries, knowing it was a simple pantomime to get my way. “You just go upstairs and it will be up in ten minutes, or so.”

“Thank you.” I bowed my head at him in respect. “We will be leaving shortly anyways.”

“Room all paid for?”

“Indeed,” I replied in the most refined British accent I could muster. “I did it before I went into the breakfast room.”

“Excellent,” the man blurted out and then immediately turned his back on me. He went about his papers, so I left him to climb up the wooden stairs to get to my room. I paused in front of my door, looking down the high banister to see if the manager was watching me. I must have been paranoid for he was absorbed in his book, a thing that made me feel more at ease. I knew my life was in danger, all our lives were the longer I maintained my romantic relationship with Michael. Having a child in the mix made it an even greater challenge, for who knows if Fredrick was able to keep our secret. The key pushed through the lock, a sharp turn and then I shoved the heavy door open to see Michael seated at the edge of my bed. Fredrick was at her left, leaning against her form to look at the small book she held in her hands. Dark eyes glanced up at me at the same time, and Michael was the first to close the book to come forward and greet me.

“You were gone long.”

“Yes.”

She saw the heavy lines over my brow, the way my dark brown eyebrows lowered substantially over my piercing blue eyes. “What happened?” she inquired, once she laid a hand over the top of my right shoulder. “Something happened.”

“They were testing me downstairs.”

“Its us.”

“You and Fredrick,” I explained. “But I cleared the matter up.”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

I raised an eyebrow at her playfully. “But I did.” I moved aside from her, taking in the room from an outsider’s perspective. “Clean this place up; they will be here any moment.”

I went over to my luggage to shut it closed, and then walked around the bed to take in the state of things. “Fredrick get up.” The boy dropped to the floor quickly, scampering over to Michael’s side in fear. It was only then that I realized the harsh tone I used against him and regretted it instantly. I turned my back to them both and readjusted the pillow, fluffing it out before I threw it at the top of the bed. Michael brought Fredrick forward with a steady hand over the center of his back, making him stand next to me before she joined in with making up the bed. We worked together in silence, with the little boy watching the entire scene, probably marveling at a white man working alongside his slave. Once the task was done, I complained I had to go to the bathroom to check on my appearance, wanting some space as I tried to keep my mind clear from the negative energy that I experienced downstairs.

There was no water to use to take a bath or even to wash my face, and I knew if I went downstairs to ask for more they would get suspicious. I took a glance in the looking glass, seeing a shadow of a beard appear over my face. Heavy bags were under my eyes from exhaustion, it was difficult sleeping in such a small space, and the boy would whimper from time to time as if he was suffering through a nightmare. I would have my hand’s full with Fredrick, but I didn’t regret it, not for a single minute.

I knew I would be short on money as well,, since I would have to account taking care of Fredrick. It was an extra mouth to feed, another worry placed upon my shoulder’s, and I could only wonder if this is what fatherhood would be like. I poked my head around the corner of the bathroom entranceway, seeing Michael bent down on her knees to tie up the boy’s boots. She was speaking to him softly in English, making the boy watch her attentively as she performed the task. _He trust her,_ I realized, and found some comfort at that.

“Get him away from the door,” I called out, disturbing them from their tranquil-like moment. “I don’t want them to see him.”

“Why?”

“He’s still wearing my clothes,” I pointed out. “Get him to change.”

Michael stood to her feet and offered her hand to Fredrick. “Here,” she murmured, and the boy fell to the ground softly to stand at Michael’s side. She led him to the bathroom where I was stationed, brushing her shoulder against mine as she passed me by to take Fredrick to the bathtub. His clothes were laid out there, dry and well scrubbed down by Michael; she lifted his shirt up in front of her and casted the little boy a cheerful smile. “All clean,” she laughed, which made the boy giggle happily. Michael dropped her hand off the end of the shirt, letting it dangle at her side while she drew her fingers through his thick curly hair. _The same texture,_ I thought. “You look well cared for now,” Michael surmised, but the rest of her words were caught off with a knock on the door. I strode over, making sure the bathroom door was half closed behind me before I unlocked the front door.

“Breakfast,” the same servant announced, his tightened lips proved to me that he was forced to bring it up himself.

“I take it you didn’t spit on it,” I jeered, after I accepted the plate. “Poisoned it, perhaps.”

“No, sir,” he responded gravely, though I could tell he was akin to that idea once I uttered it aloud.

“At least I know where to find you…” I took a step forward to make him uncomfortable. “…if you did.”

The man took a step back with his lips contorting downwards into a sinister frown. He left me after that, not bothering to add anything else to the unwanted conversation. I looked down to the plate, seeing it with three boiled eggs, toast with butter and a side of fresh cut ham. I licked my lips at the sight of it and then turned around with lop-sided grin, knowing that once I locked the door, they would have time to enjoy it.

* * *

“Where are we?” Fredrick asked while he peered over Michael’s forearm to look at the map. They were seated across from me, enamored by the atlas that Michael borrowed from my library. She had discovered he couldn’t read and took it upon herself to teach him these things.

“In British North America,” my wife answered him. “Formerly New France.”

“Why is it new?”

“Because there’s already France, so they made a new one.”

“Where?”

I smiled at the two of them, liking how they had naturally bonded over the old paperback map of the world. Michael had grown quite attached to Fredrick, treating him like he was her own child. I listened to her answering the boy’s questions, taking it upon herself to educate him with a mysterious fervor in her dark brown eyes. Her face was elated, uncharacteristically smiling at every interval whenever Fredrick spoke. They relished each other’s presence, but I began to wonder if they even knew I was there at all. Michael hardly spared a glance in my direction, and I missed her warm presence beside me; the blanket could only do so much.

“Gabriel is from here,” piped up loudly from Michael’s side of the carriage. “And he sailed all the way from Great Britain to here.”

“A long journey,” I assured the little boy. “Much longer than this one.”

Fredrick nodded his head at me, still weary to speak to me aloud. There was a look of fear that flashed through his eyes every now and then, a distrust that I would turn on him. It was the colour of my skin that put him on guard, a thing that was felt quite sharply when I watched him interact with Michael. It was a sad fact, but very true, and I knew it would take a long time to break past that barrier.

“Its only been three hours,” Michael piped up, after she drew the drapes away to glance outside. “Still mid-day sun.”

“The weather is kind,” I remarked off-handily.

“Yes.”

“And you are full.”

“Almost,” she teased, before she suddenly noticed how empty my side of the carriage was. “Why don’t you sit with us?”

“Because there is no room,” I lied. “Why don’t you sit next to me?”

“I’m with Fredrick.”

“I can see that,” I thinly stated. My arms crossed tightly to show my mood, feeling like I was ignored now that Fredrick was in the picture.

“He’s cold.”

“I’m cold.”

“Gabriel,” my wife chided.

“I’m cold,” I repeated, and then shivered in front of her to convince her of the matter. “Come here for a bit.”

She turned her head to the sad looking boy; it didn’t help that he had to look so adorable all the time with that sweet face of his. I knew he would be a handsome man when he grew up, though I wondered if that was a good thing. “I’ll be back,” she muttered, and then tucked him neatly in grey blankets till he looked comfortable on his side of the carriage.

“Finally.” I pulled my blanket upwards, letting her slip under, and then drew my arm around the back of her neck to pull her into the side of me. “I missed you.”

“I’ve been here.”

“Have you?”

She kissed the side of my cheek dutifully, and then leaned her head on my shoulder like she was ready to doze off to sleep.

“He can’t read,” she murmured softly, as her mind continued to turn to the boy across from us. “I could read when I was his age.”

“You were a lucky one.”

“Yes, I am starting to realize that.” A long sigh escaped her, followed by a ruffling of the blankets as she tucked herself in. “I will have to teach him.”

“I know.”

We watched him peer at the open book, taking in the shapes of the countries that stretched from one page to another. “You will be a good teacher.”

“It would be better to take him there.”

“Another explorer?”

“We could, you know.”

I tightened my lips so I wouldn’t laugh at her, knowing her desire to travel was too strong to push down. “And take him up to the stars, presumably.”

“I wish,” she murmured. “You packed the telescope, didn’t you?”

“For you, I did.”

“Oh, thank you.” Michael tilted her head in my direction, staring at my lips until I understood her silent request. I kissed her lips lightly, pleased beyond words that she was so close to me. “Were you jealous, Gabe?”

“Jealous?”

“Paying attention to Fredrick.”

I crooked an eyebrow at her, not wanting to confess my true thoughts. A finger strayed over the top of my ear, curling over till it could feel the softness of my hair.

“I know I have you,” I told her. “I always will.”

Her voice was deep as she uttered, “You do.”

My lips were demanding this time, digging deep into her with a heavy palm pressed against the side of her face to keep her near. I could sense her submission, knowing the heat of my breath and the enticement of my lips would keep her near. A sharp sound broke the moment, the spine of the book cascading hard against the floor which made Michael’s eyes turn her full attention to the Fredrick. “Are you alright?” she asked of him. Michael flung the blankets away from her to retreat to his side of the carriage. I supressed a groan when she pushed the child’s hair back, letting her eyes rest over Fredrick with worry to see that everything was alright. “We made you uncomfortable, didn’t we?”

A sharp exhale escaped my lips, knowing what was coming before Michael even had to utter it.

“You didn’t like it,” Michael surmised. “I’m sorry.” Her hand shifted from his forehead to the top of his head, and there she laid a kiss atop of it with feeling. “People kiss when they are in love, you know.” The boy whimpered a response, so Michael let him go to retrieve the book. “Do you know what love is?”

The boy voice was soft when he uttered, “No.”

“It’s a feeling,” my wife explained. “There can be different forms of love. I’m sure, like me…” The book was closed and settled over her lap with deliberation. “All that you have felt was hate from people of his race… his colour.” Her dark eyes settled over mine keenly, studying my impassive face for a moment before she continued. “But Lorca offers me nothing but love. He will do the same to you.” The book was neatly placed over Fredrick’s lap, and then she kissed the top of his head with a look of peacefulness. “And so will I.”

“Michael?” I questioned her, when she left the boy’s side to return to me. “What are you doing?” She took a close seat beside me, and then brushed her hands through my thin hair. “Kissing you,” she replied, before she brought herself forward and kissed my lips fervently. I sighed with relief, liking the way she stretched out the moment as though it was only her and I in the carriage. Her hand smoothed down my hair while the other rested over the top of my chest, always liking the firmness of my muscles there. I smiled at her when she was finished, squinting my eyes with relish.

“You’re a good man,” she whispered in front of my lips.

“Oh?”

“You saved him,” she exclaimed. “And me.”

“You once said I didn’t save you.”

“You didn’t,” she clarified. “But you did something.” Her warm hand rubbed the side of my cheek profusely, staring me deep in my eyes with that soul-searching look of hers. Often times I found her bewitching, but never more so than now.

“I loved you,” I breathed.

“Yes,” she answered me in a leveled tone of voice. “You did.”

“I do,” I clarified for her, wanting Michael to know I was speaking in the present moment. I leaned my face into her hand on purpose, closing my eyes with serenity. I simply enjoyed the sound of her breath in front of me, the heat of her hand against my cold skin.

“We are going to make a home together,” she told me. “A family.”

“Fredrick,” I answered her, knowing where her thoughts were straying too.

“We could.”

“You want that.”

“Yes,” she admitted in a small voice. “You don’t?”

“I want to see you happy,” I reminded her. “I’d give you the world if I could… the universe.”

“The only thing I want is you,” she quickly answered me back. “And to see Fredrick succeed in life.”

“How?” I questioned her with half squinted eyes. “In what way?”

“To become something more.”

“More than a slave?” I slyly asked her, since she was unwilling to utter it aloud.

“Yes, Gabriel,” she relented after a momentary pause. “More than a slave.”

“It’s a big world,” I mentioned in a louder tone of voice. I removed her hand away from me to stare at the child across from us. “But not big enough for that.”

Her lips puckered with distaste. “We will see about that,” she uttered in a strangely compelling voice.

“It’s a dream, Michael. That’s all it can ever be.”

“Some dreams can come true,” she assured me, and then pecked a quick kiss on my lips before she abandoned my side. “And it starts today,” she shouted back to me, after she took a close seat next to Fredrick, and then waved the closed book in front of me to prove my point.

_Same old Michael,_ I thought, and then closed my eyes at her to pretend I was about to fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always feel free to share your thoughts and concerns. This story contains difficult subjects, but I hope this is an environment where you feel free to express your thoughts and opinions.


	29. Seperation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel enters Quebec city and finds himself struggling with the reality of the life he chose to lead with Michael.

It wasn’t long before I fell asleep, the calm rocking of the carriage ensured it. I had a dreamless sleep though, and when I had awoken it was too witness Michael peacefully restfully on the other side of the carriage. Fredrick was wide awake, however, carefully flipping through the picture book that detailed certain parts of the globe. The world seemed to interest him, entire countries that he had never seen with his own two eyes. I sat up further, letting my back rest over the comfortable seat to get a better look at him. His hands were small, fingers incredibly thin as they drew tiny dashes across the bottom of the page. He was lost in thought, absorbed by the colourful pages in front of him.

I turned my head to Michael, noticing how her face was squished against a blanket that was leaned next to the wall. She would have been comfortable over my lap, better yet in my arms, but Michael wanted to be as near to the little boy as possible.

Fredrick glanced up once he heard me pushing my own blankets down. I shot him a harmless grin, hoping it would be enough to break the ice. He blinked at me carefully, a look of hesitation flashed through his eyes and then Fredrick abruptly lowered his head. My fingers rubbed against the bottom of my chin, frustrated that my relationship with Fredrick was going nowhere. It felt like every time I took a step forward than I was going back again. A turning of a page was heard, forcing my gaze to turn back to him, watching the way he brought the small book higher against his chest to have better vision. It was dark in the carriage, and since I had the drapes drawn tightly it was extremely hard to see anything. A small crack was provided for Michael and Fredrick to read, but once we entered the city, I knew that it would have to end. My left hand rose forward, pushing back the drapes to have a peak outside. A sleet of hard snow decorated the trees, while the roadway was hardly foreseeable from my point of view. I squinted into the bright lighting, knowing the sun’s rays bouncing off the pearl white snow irritated my sensitive eyes. Our travel was slow for good reason, so I dropped the black drapes back in place and settled my back more comfortably against the seat behind me. Legs crossed over one another I glanced upwards again, watching Fredrick study the pages as if he was drilling it into his memory. “Have you been here your whole life?” I inquired, shaking him out of his deep reflection to look at me. A short nod of the head was my sole answer, and then he drew the book higher up his chest to show he had nothing else to say. “The people who had you… where were they taking you?” Fredrick shrugged his shoulders at me, looking extremely uncomfortable suddenly. “Where were you before?” I asked of him, before I leaned forward in my seat to have a better look at him. His clothes were still shredded, large holes in certain parts of his outer jacket, barely enough to trap in all the warmth. Fredrick’s face was clean though, and his eyes looked less sad then when I first beheld him. “Who was your master previously?”

“Mr. Donaldson.”

“I see.” My fingers interlaced together with certain care, knowing I was treading over shaky ground. “For how long?”

“I’m not sure,” he spoke in a weak voice. “For a few years.”

“And you were with your grandmother?” I softly asked him. “The same one I saw…”

His head lowered in sadness; a sharp shutting of his eyelids confirmed my suspicions.

“I am sorry.” The boy was motionless in front of me, not wanting to open his eyes to see the world as it truly was. “And she took care of you?”

“Yes.”

“Then why did you have to leave?”

“Mr. Donaldson died,” he mumbled. “His wife sent us away.”

“Why did she do that, Fredrick?”

“She don’t need us no more.” For the first time in a while he glanced up at me daringly, and I saw anger rest within his dark orbs. “She closed the house down and sent us away.”

“And that’s when those men got you,” I deliberated aloud. “Slave traders.”

Fredrick nodded his head gravely, showing that things went from bad to worse once he landed in those men’s hands.

“And now you are with me,” I assured him. “And I will take good care of you, Fredrick. You have my word.”

He turned his head away from me, clearly reflecting upon my words. Fredrick was immensely mature for his age; it was like seeing an old man trapped in a young boy’s body.

“I bought a house up north,” I informed him. “That is where we are going. I have not seen it with my own eyes, but the whole thing is rather rushed. You see, I had to leave my home as fast as I could.”

Fredrick settled the open book over his lap. Sharp dark eyes glared at me with interest, taken back by the things I had revealed to him.

“I had suspicion that my friend would tell my secret,” I explained. “He knew the relationship I had with Michael.” I rubbed the palms of my hands together nervously. “I feared he would tell his wife about the matter, or worse the local authorities.” I shrugged my shoulders to feign disinterest. “If he tells his wife then it will be local gossip and I’ll never hear the end of it.” I parted my hands with purpose as I added, “If he tells the police than I could be in serious trouble. I am not familiar with French law, but I know the English one will be just as harsh to me. They could arrest me… or take Michael…” The palms of my hands were held in front of me, studying the thin brown lines that were etched into my skin. “I am not a lawyer, Fredrick, but I imagine things would not go well for me. I left everything I have at home, and only my most precious things are taken up north with me. I sometimes fear what life will be like when I return to Montreal.”

Fredrick nodded his head in understanding. A thin white light illuminated the side of his face, shining against his small ear and smooth cheek. Dark eyes settled over me easily, a look of comfort as he listened to my troubles.

“I have to go back to speak to my lawyer and sell the house. It’s folly to even leave it unsupervised. I didn’t even tell my neighbours that I was going. I don’t know what I was thinking, only… only I can’t lose Michael. She’s everything to me.” I laid the palm of my hand over my mouth, wishing I had never said that last part aloud. It felt uncomfortable being so vulnerable, but I suppose that is what loves does to you. “Fredrick,” I called out. “You understand that I’m not like the other white men, don’t you?”

His voice was meek when he replied, “Yes.”

“I will never hurt you.”

He nodded his head slowly, doing his best to maintain his gaze with me.

“Michael learned that and in time you will too.”

“How…” The boy stopped, feeling he shouldn’t be able to speak to me this way.

“No, continue.”

Fredrick swallowed hard, and then closed the book lightly with his finger keeping a hold of his treasured page. “How are you able to marry her?”

“Michael,” I said with relish, after I let my eyes descend upon her beautiful form. “We said our vows to one another and that is it.”

“But are you allowed too?”

“What do you think?”

“No,” he timidly answered me, looking almost fearful of my reaction.

“You’re right.”

He blinked at me in a purely perplexing manner, absolutely confused by the truth of it all.

“I did it illegally,” I whispered in good humour. “Another reason I left Montreal.”

Fredrick smiled at me, letting his black eyes dazzle with amusement.

“That is the only crime I wish to admit,” I teased. “Now, do you feel safer?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” I said with sudden stiffness. “I am glad.” Fredrick opened his book for the third time and neatly laid it over his lap. “Can you read it at all?”

“No.”

“You speak only English?” I ventured since I wanted to know more about him.

“Yes.”

“English master? Donaldson. Yes, of course.” I shook my head gravely in front of the boy. “How foolish of me.”

“English like you, sir.”

I wasn’t sure if I wanted Fredrick to refer to me in that title, but I wasn’t sure what other name I wanted him to call me by. I turned my attention to Michael, remembering how long it took her to break that awful habit. “Sir,” seemed to slip off her tongue more times than I could count, but now she adapted a nickname for me that only gave me pleasure.

“Michael says you are a soldier,” the boy piped up. “Did you kill people?”

“I did.”

“How many?”

“I lost count,” I said in truth. Fredrick bit down on his bottom lip, looking unsettled by my answer. “Why? What did your Mr. Donaldson do?”

“I think he was…” Fredrick squinted as he tried to come up with an answer. “He worked for the papers.”

“Journalist? Someone who writes stories for the news.” Fredrick nodded his head at me in quick agreement. “How did he die?”

“He caught a cold,” he simply answered me. I thought it must have been a bad cold to lead to such a painful death. “They sent us away the day after he died.”

“Are you sure it was a cold, Fredrick?”

“I don’t know.”

I suppose a boy that age wouldn’t know the truth of his master’s death, but it was certain it was some kind of deathly illness. I turned my head away to think of my nephew, knowing I had to send a letter to my sister as soon as I could to inform her of my sudden move. It would be difficult to explain my circumstances, knowing she would want to know the reason behind my sudden move. My friends would think the same thing: Philip, Samuel and even Carl. I worried about Samuel the most, knowing he would be the most worried about my sudden absence. We were so different in our cultures and beliefs, but somehow, we managed to find common ground. To many Samuel had assimilated into our culture, but I knew he was deep rooted in his heritage. The gap between white man and Indian was steadily growing, and I knew it was only a matter of time until Samuel’s presence would ever be tolerated in the city of Montreal. _He will have to go back to his people,_ I thought, _to the old way of living._ The life of canoes upon the crystal-clear water and roaring fires in the depths of the great forests. I had never been to an Indian campsite, or even seen their group at large. My only encounter was before the battle fields, and even then, our British tactics were vastly different from their own. _We would have never gotten this far without them,_ I mused, knowing if it hadn’t been for careful persuasion on the British part, we would have lost this war long ago. _And how many lives has Samuel saved,_ I pondered, _even I owe him a debt that could never be repaid._

_He gives me sound advice too,_ I reflected, knowing it was him that went against my wishes to rid Michael of our potential child. My eyes glanced over to her own dark form and then shifted to the left to see Fredrick lost in another page. _It’s funny how things all work out._

I reached forward to draw the drapes back again, seeing a faint outline of houses in the far distant. It would be hours until we reach the city of Quebec, perhaps by sundown, and who knows what trials awaited us once we escaped the safe seclusion of our carriage. _Reality, no doubt, and the harshness of it will be just as cruel as this winter wind._

_But I must face it all the same._

* * *

The carriage was going over a bumpy part of the road when Michael’s voice broke through my thoughts. “You’re frowning.”

“We are getting closer,” I answered her with fiercely crossed arms.

“And?”

“Michael I am sure your thoughts are aligned the same way as me.”

“Quite the contrary.” She ignored my laugh of mockery, and simply leaned forward to repeat the same question again.

“I am not in the mood to pretend…” I paused to drag the back of my hand over my nose to stop me from sniffling. “That we aren’t…” I raised my hands in the air as I tried to come up with the right words.

“Your slaves,” she answered for me.

“Yes,” I grunted.

“You won’t have to pretend. The second we walk out the doors you will feel it, and so will I.”

“I wish it didn’t have to be this way,” I muttered. “If only I could change the way people think.”

“You can’t control people’s thoughts, Gabriel.”

“I changed yours,” I deliberated aloud. “You thought one thing about me and…” I offered her a crooked smile in that momentary pause. “Now its _another._ ”

“You can’t change people’s way of thinking,” she reasoned. “But we still have some level of control. Gabriel? Focus on what is important.”

“And that is?” I questioned her in a low, raspy voice.

“Our home.”

I nodded my head at her in agreement, though I felt a sinking feeling at the bottom of my stomach. “Always looking at the positive side of things,” I mumbled, but Michael heard it al the same. “The eternal optimist.”

“Not always,” she rebutted with a playful look in her eyes.

“Well you are far more than I could ever be.”

“I know our lives are in danger,” she stated with supreme firmness to her voice. “But I also know we can start again.”

“You can be certain of that,” I barked back, and then sharply tugged at the drapes to have a better look outside. We were entering the main city, the towering grey buildings on the side of the road confirmed it. It was only a matter of time until our driver stopped us, and then we would have to depart the carriage for good. “I only hope I didn’t make a mistake.”

“With what exactly?”

“Going all the way up here.” Her back was perfectly straight when she studied me, a sure sign that Michael was willing to put up a fight. “The decision is made so there is no point in regretting it.”

“You are now,” she observed with something of a grimace.

“I just don’t want to blow our cover,” I assured her. “We have to look like we belong. Play our roles. Do nothing that would capture attention and more importantly _suspicion._ ” I folded my blanket sloppily, doing my best to hide my nerves. “And that includes _him._ ” Michael turned her attention to Fredrick, finally understanding my true concern. “If anything is our weakness it would be the child. I want you to make sure he behaves properly once we exit this carriage.”

“Fredrick will,” she told me with confidence.

“And understand that whatever happens,” I breathed out with warning. “Anything I may say or do is just a façade.” I darted my eyes to Fredrick, knowing he was listening to our conversation too intently. “You understand that?”

“He does,” Michael answered for him.

“Right.” I reached for the far end of the bench to retrieve my trusty hat. “Let’s get this over with.”

Michael reached forward to grab a hold of my blanket, adding it to the growing pile on her side of the bench. Already she was falling into her role, a role we equally despised. “The carriage is slowing down,” she observed.

I drew back the drapes to see we stopped at a small hotel. “We’re here.”

“Fredrick stay close to my side,” she warned with a motherly look about her.

“We’re in this together,” I reminded the two of them. “We can do this.” The carriage halted after the last of my words, making us jolt over in our seats at the harshness of the stop. I let out a shaky sigh, knowing we were stepping into the unknown. “It’s time.” Michael abruptly left her seat, coming to my side of my carriage to lay a heavy hand over the side of my face. I parted my lips at her, knowing she wanted to kiss me for one last time. “Michael, we don’t have time,” I reminded her gently, though a part of me feared it could be our last time. She answered me with a deep kiss, pressing her face into mine until there was no space in between us. It parted after a few moments and then with sad eyes she departed from me and took a rigid seat beside Fredrick. “That won’t be our last one,” I promised her, which made her nod her head in agreement. “Stay strong for me, Michael.”

I swallowed hard at the sight of her and then turned my head in Fredrick’s attention. “So do you, Fredrick,” I assured him, only seconds before our carriage door opened and a bright light fell over us all.

“We’re here!” was screamed into our carriage, breaking the last of the tranquil moment I shared with my newly adopted family. “Luggage is already brought down.”

“Give me a moment to recount my money,” I barked back, noticing how sharp my tone was when I uttered it. “Have a seat in here, if you’d like.”

“I’m perfectly fine out here,” he said with suspicion, before he turned an icy gaze to the Michael and Fredrick. I pulled out my wallet and counted the money in front of him, handing him his fair share with every knowledge that it would be harder and harder to survive out here alone. “That will cover it,” he piped up, and then stepped away from the door to give us some room. I made sure not to turn my gaze to Michael, forcing myself to depart from the carriage first even though every instinct wanted her to do it first. “Go in there and you can order a carriage that will take you past this city. There will be food and lodging as well. Something you need since its nearly nightfall.”

“Yes, it is getting darker,” I remarked, though it wasn’t dark enough for my sensitive eyes.

“I will be staying there too, so we may cross paths again.” He offered a hand for me to shake, and I did so gladly knowing he would pose no harm to us. “Oh, and by the way…” He made sure his gloved hand was stuffed back into his coat pocket before he added, “If you looking to have special treatment for your slaves then you’ve come to the wrong place.” I raised a questionable eye at him, daring him to elaborate further. “Just a word of advice,” he sheepishly replied, before he glanced quickly at Michael’s direction with meaning.

“I don’t recall paying you for that.”

“No,” he said through gritted teeth. He tipped his hat at me and then climbed back into the driver’s seat, clearly wanting to be rid of my presence as fast as he could.

_I am glad the feeling is mutual._

I heaved up my luggage and then looked over my shoulder to make sure Michael and Fredrick would follow me. I knew I had to detach myself from my feelings, play a role that was tearing me up inside. I had to manipulate people and wear a mask, do whatever I could to survive in this system until I made my way home. I shut my eyes profusely, wishing things could go another way, knowing that the minute I walked up these steps and opened the door, the life I wanted to lead would be next to impossible. _Or is it,_ a part of me wondered, _perhaps I will never truly know._

“The time to act is now,” I whispered under my breath, and with that I mounted the steps with a certain determination.

The door was pushed open, and I immediately spotted the expansiveness of the large lobby. I froze in front of the doorway, taking in the cluster of people, and then did my best to settle my nerves for a few seconds. The luggage was heaved closer to my waist, and I stepped forward to the front lobby to hopefully obtain a room. The sinking feeling continued when Michael stood so far off from me, allowing herself to fall into the natural dark lighting of the room as she pretended to not listen to my conversation with the man at front desk. I was angry at myself for getting a room with one bed, knowing I was doomed to send them to the basement or somewhere even worse than that. My hands were shaking when I accepted the key, trying to come up with secret ways to smuggle them upstairs. _What happens if I simply take them with me,_ I wondered, _if I defied everyone’s opinion and did what felt right._ My thoughts betrayed me, and I took a long hard look at Burnham as she remained in the shadows; the emotionless face gave nothing away, a fact that made me feel uneasy.

“Would you require anything else, sir?” the man at front desk inquired, since he had a long line of customers standing behind me.

I let out a deep sigh, knowing how much I was internally fighting with myself for saying these next few words. “Where do I put them?”

The man followed my gaze, and then gave me a side-eyed look as if he didn’t understand. “I’ll have someone take them downstairs,” he noted, and motioned for one of his workers behind him to take a place at his side. “Take ‘em away.”

The keys were clutched tightly in my hands as I watched them walk away from me, knowing I had no knowledge of where they were taking them or anything else of that matter.

“Are you in need of anything else?” broke through my thoughts.

“Sorry, the room number?”

“Written down on the tag,” he pointed out. “Go all the way down the hall, and you will see it on your right.”

I stiffly nodded my head at him and then moved to the side of the countertop. I found myself leaning forward as I watched Michael walk away from me, noticing that it was only Fredrick that was looking back. _He finally understands,_ I thought, seeing that look of sympathy he courageously cast in my direction. He understands how much I care for her. My feet went forward on its own accord, following them from a distance until I saw the hotel worker open a secret door and motion them to go inside. Michael took the young boy’s hand, pulling him into her side before they descended the steps. She was brave, perhaps braver than I could ever be, and I felt nothing but sorrow to see their forms depart from my sight. The door closed gently, and then the young man in uniform glanced up to see I had been watching them the whole time. He curtly nodded his head at me and then walked down the opposite direction of the hallway, leaving me with only my thoughts and the oppressive feeling of shame.

* * *

I was in a room full of people and I never felt lonelier. A pint of ale was at my elbow as I dragged the edge of my fork along the pasta the waitress had laid out for me. It was late at evening and the only thing I could think about was Michael. _Was she safe,_ I wondered, _is she cold? Will there be a safe place for her to sleep? Will she and Fredrick catch a cold and become sick?_

I considered going downstairs to fetch her, but I knew it would be completely out of the question. I wanted to see her. I wanted more than anything to hear her voice.

_I miss her._

Sad blue eyes stared at my grave reflection in the tall clear glass beside me, taking note of the white bubbles at the top of my amber coloured ale. I felt defeated, almost betrayed with the knowledge that I had dug a hole for myself.

“Is everything all right?” the waitress ahead of me asked, taking note of my sullen face as I stared at my untouched food. “Are you not enjoying it?”

“I don’t feel so well,” I lied.

“Lot of that going around her,” she mused, before she brushed back her honey blonde hair. “It’s the cold.”

“Sure.”

“Traveling alone?”

I tilted my head at her in amusement. “Is it so obvious?”

“I see a lot of that too.” She folded her clean towel and rested it in front of her. “Would you like something else to eat? Soup, perhaps.”

“Thank you, but no.” I smiled at her though it took a great deal of effort. “I appreciate the gesture.”

Her smile was equal to mine, but infinitely more genuine. “Anytime,” she happily replied, and then left me to my own musings. My gaze followed her, noticing the strange energy I got from her. _She’s attracted to me,_ I mused, and stabbed my fork into the pasta with frustration. _And the one woman I am attracted too is banished downstairs._

A large sip of ale was gulped down; a turn in my seat to look out the window where white snowflakes decorated the frosty window with an original design. Everything felt so grave to me, but I knew there was some hope for the future. _A future with her,_ I thought, before I brought my lips to the cold glass again. _A future where we could be together._

 

 


	30. Chains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel has a nightmare and wakes up to find that lingering feeling of dread stems into his normal waking life as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello,
> 
> I am trying to not write all "doom and gloom" but I still have to acknowledge that there is some dark history that I have to address from time to time. It would be easy to simply shy away from it, but I know that I can't. This story has highs and lows, but I suppose that is a part of the ride. I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> petyrbaaaeeelish

It felt like my heart was hammering out of my chest. My breath was sharp and quick as I opened my mouth wide, my eyes straining to see anything in my darkened room. Panic overwhelmed me, making my senses heighten to only hear the rustling wind blowing against the tiny window in my bedroom. I pushed down my blankets, struggling to crawl out of my bed to step quickly towards the window. The floor was cold over my bare feet, making me shiver even though my body temperature still felt immensely warm.

_It was a nightmare._

My hands fiercely grabbed a hold of the bottom of the drapes to pull it back, seeing only the grey moonlight illuminating the tops of houses in this crowded city. It was late at night and I couldn’t see anyway lingering out the tight alleyways of Quebec City. The drapes were open to the full before I let my shaky hands retrieve my pipe resting on a nearby desk, and with one sharp strike I set the match ablaze and applied it to my well used pipe. A long inhale was taken, hoping the alluring taste of tobacco on my tongue would be enough to calm me down.

_Only a nightmare._

I settled myself comfortably on the edge of my bed, staring into the darkened corner of my room as I tried to recall the dream.

_I can’t remember._

I knew the nightmare contained something terrible though, like a warning before the storm should come. _I should have never let Michael go down there,_ I mused. _She belongs here with me._

A shaky exhale was released, sending a cloud of smoke into the darkling room. I watched it in the faint moonlight, seeing how it curled and floated upwards until it could be seen no more.

 _I should check on her,_ I decided, and then raised myself from my bed to put on some proper clothes.

A few minutes later a candle was lit, and I busied myself with putting on some warm clothes. I intended to bring a set of blankets to Michael and hoped to see what condition she was left in. _It shouldn’t be too bad._

_But the dream…_

The last of my boot was pushed downwards, letting the flat of my feet touch the bottom sole until it felt comfortable enough to walk around my room. I deliberated snuffing out my pipe but decided I would need it for my nerves, so with a careful look around to ensure everything was well I quietly shut the door and promptly locked it behind me. The hallway was empty, it must have been well into the night for there was no one in sight. The scent of tobacco wafted in front of me, giving me some extra comfort as I strode down the long hallway; there was a set of stairs up ahead, enough for me to walk down the three flights of stairs until I reached the main lobby. I wasn’t sure how I would be able to reach Michael, but I would do everything in my power to see her and Fredrick in person. The flight of stairs felt long, as my mind tried to recall the events that happened in my nightmare, but all I could see was a blank space in my mind. It was like a memory that was suddenly erased.

The ground floor was empty, a grandfather clock ticked in the main lobby where the guests were intended to wait. I rounded the corner to see the front desk empty, and then looked over the countertop to see the area was prestigious. _Not a key in sight,_ I pondered, and then took a step back to look at the secret door. I looked to my left and right, and once I saw no staff members around, I strode directly to the door to find it unlocked. A quick glance behind me and I descended the steps, careful not to make a sound as I crept my way into darkness. A cold blast of air met me instantly, and then the hush sounds of snores; the ticking of the grandfather clock died away and all that I could hear quite vividly was the winter winds and a creaking of wood that opened and closed with every interval like a half opened window. I was half-way down the staircase when I heard a clinking noise, a vaguely familiar sound but I couldn’t quite place it. I lowered the pipe from my lips, peering into the darkness as I tried to catch some light. _If only I brought my candle with me._ I had the box of matches with me, but I thought to keep it in my pocket for now. The clinking sound shook through the cold air again, making my feet freeze at the bottom step once I noticed how close it sounded. Fearful I dug out my box of matches and did my best to strike it until it shined brightly in the room, a faint light that was enough to fill me with horror. The match dropped from my fingers from the shock of it all and I quickly stamped on it so a fire wouldn’t break out.

_Chains._

I shut my eyes as the image was stamped into my memory.

_A room full of people in chains._

My breathing was suddenly laboured, an enormous amount of anger pulsated through my veins suddenly.

_They are treated no better than cattle._

_No, much worse._

“Michael,” I found myself mouthing, completely forgetting the fact that she could possibly be in chains as well. I frantically dug out another match, striking it sharply before I raised it high over my head. There was over thirty people here, chained to the sides of the walls with dirty bowls at their knees that once contained their food. I stepped forward with purpose, watching white eyes fall over me in fear as I searched the length of the wall. There was some slaves asleep, but the longer I held out my match the more I was stirring them awake. My pipe was shoved into my mouth to keep my hands free, and then I struck the third match to investigate the wall to the left of me. “Michael,” I murmured, since the pipe was still in my mouth. I ran over to her, letting the match shine over her face to see her fast asleep. “Fredrick,” I breathed, seeing how the boy was avidly watching me as he laid in Michael’s arms. I dropped the match to the floor and then took a hold of Fredrick in the darkness, clinging to his small frame to find his skin so cold. “Blankets,” I muttered, and pulled the pipe out of my mouth to snuff it out entirely before I reached for the extra set of blankets I bought. “Put it on.”

“Gabriel?” Michael mumbled, finally coming out of her deep sleep.

“I’m so sorry, love.”

A frozen hand reached for my warm one, squeezing it tightly since she was at a loss of words.

“I didn’t know. I swear it!” The people on either side of her were waking up, so I knew I had to lower my voice into barely a whisper. “I never knew it was like this.” I turned my head to Fredrick’s direction as well, wanting to apologize to the little boy I had treasured as my own. “I swear to God I never imagined it would be this way for the both of you.”

“Did you imagine us having a warm bed,” Michael unexpectedly jeered.

“Michael?”

“You should go,” she unexpectedly said, though her voice was shaking when she uttered it.

“You knew it would be like this?” I demanded, hating the fact that I was so ignorant of their reality. “I would rather us sleeping out in the snow then have you lead a life like this.”

Michael leaned into my ear and whispered, “They can hear you.” A squeeze on my hand was soon followed, and then I realized she was trying to warn me.

I pulled her into my form, realizing how cold she was by the crispness of her winter coat against my bare fingers. Its like touching ice, I worried, knowing the crack of the open window gave them no warmth for the night. “Where is the key?”

“You can’t let us go,” she hushed back.

“Where is it?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’m taking you out of here.”

“Think this through,” she hissed, pulling my hand into her lap to keep me at bay. “What will happen if you take us out of here now?”

“I don’t give a damn.”

“You never do,” she warned. “And that is _why_ we keep running.”

“You really expect me to go back upstairs and pretend none of this ever happened,” I whispered right back to her. “That you and Fredrick are sleeping in a place like this.”

“Sir,” she stated with a firmness to her voice. “I thank you for the extra blankets.” Her hand slipped out of mine and she used the tips of her fingers to push my chest away from hers. “Goodnight.”

I dropped the blankets over their forms and left them with sudden haste, knowing this wasn’t the last they would see me for tonight. I jogged up the flight of stairs and opened it quickly to find a staff member standing behind the front desk. “I’d like to check out.”

“Now?” he asked me with all astonishment, especially since I had just left the servants quarters.

“Yes, my sister is very sick and I don’t have a moment to loose.”

“There will be no carriages available till dawn, sir.” He turned his back to me, hoping that would be enough to shut down my original idea.

“I don’t give a damn if there isn’t a carriage available. I’m going upstairs to gather my things and by the time I come back I want my servants released and my bill with the amount I owe you.”

“It is three in the morning,” he reminded me.

“And your point is?” I shot back heatedly before I turned my back to him and mounted the stairs, intent on throwing everything in my luggage so I could take Michael and Fredrick out of there. _And this will be the last time that I ever separate myself from them again,_ I swore, _and knew I would hold true to my word._

* * *

A tense silence was felt between all three of us. I sat down on the clean step, knowing Michael’s silence was a way to show her disapproval. I removed my hat to brush back my hair, relieved that the snowfall wouldn’t land on me from where I sat. There was clearing overhead, a protective archway off of this French cathedral that allowed us to stay dry. It would be another few hours until the doors opened, however, so it would be sometime until we felt some warmth again. Fredrick went in front of Michael and then positioned himself in front of me. He used his hands to gently spread my legs apart and then sat in between them, letting his head rest over my left knee as he watched the thick snowflakes fall from the night sky. The hotel we had just left was an unsettling sight, standing across the street from us to remind me of my grave mistake. I rubbed the palm of my hands over the whole of my face, not even sure if it was wise to address Michael right now.

Fredrick was fidgeting with the hem of my pants, deciding it was best to remain silent when the two adults at present were unwilling to speak to each other.

“Michael.”

“You shouldn’t have come,” she quickly spat out before I could add another word. “They might have heard what you said. You weren’t thinking Gabriel!”

“You are right!” I shook my head with frustration. “I wasn’t.”

“I thought you wanted to blend in with society, not break it? You do realize they will talk, and once word gets out.”

“You are overthinking it.”

“Am I?”

“Who will they tell? Their masters?”

“We aren’t safe here.”

“Good, because I had no intention of staying here!” Fredrick let his hand fall away from the bottom of my pant and rested them timidly in his lap. “I thought you would thank me from rescuing-”

“-you act like you are some God sometimes,” she interjected. “We didn’t need to be saved.”

“You wanted me to leave you down there?”

“To not attract any unwanted attention, then _yes_.”

“Michael,” I scolded. “I think I deserve a thank you at the very least.”

“The problem with you Gabriel is that you think you are so superior!”

“For saving you?”

“For thinking you are better than everyone else,” she clarified. “And the problem with that is you will rub too many shoulders.”

“Oh? With who exactly?”

“People your kind,” she clarified. “White people.”

“And what if I do?” I demanded. “I’m nothing like them.”

“You share the same colour skin as them.”

“So that automatically makes me one of them? Are you saying I am just as bad as that worker that was reluctant to unchain you from the wall? Or the servant earlier this morning that wanted to feed you nothing but a boiled egg for breakfast?”

“Gabriel.”

“Or am I like those slave traders that had Fredrick? The people that look at you like you are the very dirt under your feet when you are not?” I asked in an accusatory voice. “How dare you compare me to them?”

“No!” she argued back. “What I am trying to say is that you are separating yourself from them.”

“Yes!”

“You cannot change people’s minds by fighting with them.”

“Oh?” I yelled out, after I stood to my feet with Fredrick standing in between them.

“You must _work_ with them,” she reasoned with an emphatic look about her.

“How exactly?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Then this leads me nowhere.”

“You give up after a single obstacle, Gabriel?” she asked, just before she walked towards the sturdy cathedral wall. I watched her lean against it, curling over the blanket I handed to her over the last of her form. She gave me an unwelcome look, still annoyed by me abruptly pulling her out of that prison cell. _It might as well be a prison,_ I thought, knowing the image of people being tied up in chains would be etched into my mind forever.

I took a seat, pulling a reluctant Fredrick into the depths of my arms to keep him safe and warm. “I am sorry about that,” I told him. “I never knew you would have to endure a night like that.”

Fredrick sat in between my legs in silence, only staring at my hand that rested over the top of his arm. It was a firm grip, but not a threatening one, it felt more protective than anything else.

“Did Michael take good care of you down there?” A tiny nod was my sole reply, but I was happy to get anything at this point. “What about food? Did you eat anything?”

“A tiny slice of apple,” he muttered. “Some bread.”

“How much?”

He held out a tight fist in front of me, showing the size of the bread he must have eaten.

“Anything else?”

“No.”

“You must be hungry,” I fretted aloud. “When a shop opens up, I will get you and Michael something to eat.” My hands rubbed the side of him fervently, trying to bring some warmth to his tiny body. “Alright?”

“Yes,” he meekly replied. He turned his head in my direction, staring at me quizzically as if he had something to say. “Do I call you _sir?_ ” he asked softly, and then rolled back his shoulders defensively as he waited for my reply.

I tapped the side of his arm meditatively while I asked him: “What would you like to call me?” The boy shrugged his shoulders at me in reply, after he dropped his steady gaze. “You can think about it, if you’d like.”

“Yes,” he answered me with an undeniable crispness to his voice.

“Michael was the same way at first.”

“She calls you Gabriel.”

“I know.” Fredrick let his knees knock together nervously, showing his obvious discomfort under the pale blue sky that was slowly coming into my line of sight. “But it didn’t happen overnight,” I joked. “She took it in stages.” Fredrick rose to his feet and then took a step downwards, bringing himself on a lower step than my own. “It went from sir to General Lorca,” I explained. “And from Lorca to Gabriel.” I looked over my shoulder to see the women in question. “And now that is all she will ever call me.”

“And you call her Michael?”

“Yes, but it wasn’t always that way either.” I stood to my feet as well, since I heard the sound of carriage’s driving along the city’s cobbled roadways. “We should go closer to the cathedral. I don’t want to catch people’s attention.” A steady hand was laid over the boy’s shoulder to lead him forward, heading towards the aqua blue doors with gilded knobs decorated in swirling golden circles. I leaned my back against the massive door, keeping Fredrick within reach as I watched the dark shade of carriages slowly drove along the impenetrable road. “I feel like paying for that hotel was a waste,” I voiced aloud. Michael gave me a quick glance and then leveled her gaze back to the quiet road. “I went to check on you because I had a nightmare. Did something happen to you?” I leaned more into her space. “Did they… touch you?”

“No, Gabriel,” she exhaled sharply.

“Something bad happen?”

“Other than the chains over my wrist and ankles then no,” she said with pure sarcasm that took me off guard.

“I should have never let you be separated from me.”

“We were playing our role.”

“And I am a fool because of it.” A hand reached out towards her, and I waited for Michael to ardently grasp it. “Please forgive me.”

“I forgive you,” she replied in a monotone voice. There was still a strain between us but it wasn’t as evident as before.

“We travel for a couple of days and then that will be the end of it.”

“End of what exactly?”

“Us pretending that we are something we are not,” I woodenly replied. “And don’t think for one second that I would let that happen to you again.” I let her hand go to take a better look at the road, noticing how the sun was coming from over the top of the cathedral to shine upon the hotel across the street from us. “You think we should look for something to eat?”

“Is it wise walking about the street with us?”

“No.” I looked over my shoulder to take a long look at Michael. “But it will be better than leaving you here unattended and alone.” She had no time to reply, already I was heading to the edge of the staircase to retrieve my luggage. “We should walk around for a bit.”

“Where?”

“There is bound to be a bakery somewhere.”

“Gabriel you don’t know a word of French,” my wife reminded me. “And you look like a foreigner as it is.”

“I have a gun,” I pointed out. “If we get into trouble, I won’t hesitate to use it.” Michael took the young boy’s hand, bringing him forward so they could stand close to my side. “I will protect you, though I have told you that before.”

“They might have a gun too.”

“I’ll chance it.”

“You put too much at risk.”

“I go against logic, Michael. You should know this by now.” I shot her a whimsical grin for old times sakes. “Let’s walk around for a bit,” I suggested, only seconds before I descended the first step that would lead us onto the main road.

We walked by a pharmacy and a small corner store that seemed to sell anything you could possibly imagine. There was a parting in the road, offering three other directions to take, but I opted to stay on the main road where I could see a bank and a traditional French restaurant. I stopped in front of a glass window, taking in the reflection of myself with Michael and Fredrick behind me. I looked defensive, almost protective over the ones that were in my care. _My how things have changed,_ I realized, knowing it was not long ago when I feared of my life coming to an end, or even worse dying alone. Michael caught me staring at her through the reflection and did her best to shake her head at me, a single eyebrow arched up at her was enough of a reply before I strode ahead. The sidewalks were devoid of people, allowing us to trail over the uncharted path where we left our deep footprints in the mound of snow. I was cold and tired, and the remorse I had felt earlier continued to pull my mood down. I was aching for a comfy warm bed and a hot fire, but none of that would happen anytime soon since we were forced to travel northwards until we reached my new estate.

There was a postal office across the street from me, reminding me that I would have to send a letter to my lawyer and sister as soon as I had the time. There was still so many things to do and I felt overwhelmed by the prospect. Fortunately, there was a café right next to it, with a man busily cleaning up some last minute things before he opened the shop.  “Come,” I ordered, and showed the way for Michael and Fredrick as we slowly approached the half lit shop. I took a note of the time, noticing we had another twenty minutes and decided to linger outside of it. “You can’t come in,” I reminded them, which earned a sharp nod of acknowledgement from Michael. “I will get you something to eat though.”

“We can turn down the side of the alleyway next to this building to eat it,” she suggested. “No one will bat an eye at us there.” I removed my hat to scratch at the back of my head, wishing we didn’t always have to do everything in secret. “You should get extra for our journey.”

“Yes, that is a wise decision.”

“And head back to the hotel to catch a carriage.”

“Maybe the bank if its open too,” I reasoned. “We will be on the road for the rest of the day, maybe even more.” There was a pause when the person working in the shop came to close to the open window, forcing our gaze to break away for the time being. I could feel myself being watched, knowing our behaviour must have appeared most unusual. A master doesn’t confer with their slave, I reflected. I bit down on my bottom lip and took a lazy glance in Fredrick’s direction, noticing how he was the only one watching the occasional carriage drive past us with keen interest. He was a quiet boy, but I suppose in a few more days he will open up completely.

The café door opened suddenly; a head poked out with a warm smile that practically beamed from the man’s face. “Come in!” he urged, and then stood out in the cold to hold the door open for us. “Good morning.”

“You speak English?” I asked in an accusatory voice, recognizing that French accent all to well.

“A little,” he slyly replied, and then motioned Michael and Fredrick to come inside too. “Bitterly cold,” he mentioned, after he shut the door behind us. “I can tell you were English by your mannerisms.”

“Oh?”

“Body language,” he related. “And you have a certain look.”

I turned a suspicious gaze to Michael, knowing she was enjoying every minute of it.

“If you decided to stay than I’m afraid I will have to send them in the back. You understand, don’t you?”

“I had no intention of sitting,” I lied. “I’ll just see the menu.”

The man hurriedly went behind the counter to fetch his things, so I motioned Michael to follow me to the front counter to eye the pastries. “Tell me what you like,” I whispered to them both, before I had a turn of peering through the glass containers as well. Everything looked absolutely exquisite, and all I could imagine was how wonderful it would taste with a cup of tea as well. “I only wish we could stay.”

“We could go in the back.”

“I learned my lesson,” I warned with a darkened look in my eyes.

“It won’t be like that.”

“I will pass on your offer.”

“Gabriel?”

The man that owned the shop reappeared, brushing his finger over his mustache suspiciously since he could pick up on our tension. “Everything all right?”

“Yes.” I looked at Michael from the corner of my eye for a moment before I changed my mind. “If they go in the back I want to be there too.”

“Pardon?”

“I want to be seated with them.”

“Your slaves.”

“Yes.”

The man looked aghast, absolutely stunned with the suggestion.

“You fear of the state of my backroom,” he proposed. “I assure you it is the same space I use for my own slave.”

“I should like to see it.”

“Monsieur?”

“Should I have my slave translate it,” I quipped, knowing that would get him to move faster. The man huffed loudly before he threw off his oven mitten and lead the way into the back of his house. “See!” he exclaimed once we entered a small room with no candle in sight. He went around to push back a single drape, casting a pale blue light upon a tiny table with a wooden chair in front of it. “Nothing to fear.”

“There is one chair,” I mused aloud. “Bring in two more and this is where we will be seated.”

“Monsieur, I do not understand. You want to eat with your slaves.”

“I do.”

Michael visibly tensed in front of me, making the man go on guard. He nervously casted his eyes to the open entranceway, looking as though he wanted to run.

“We have been traveling all night and haven’t had anything warm in our stomachs as of yet,” I lied. “It would be greatly _appreciated_ if you could do me this small favour.”

“Is this a new English custom? To eat with your slaves?”

“It is my custom,” I replied in a tense voice. “I don’t think I have to elaborate on the matter further.”

“If you wish,” he simpered, and then left the room so quick it took me by surprise. I ordered Michael to stay where she was and then followed the store manager, intent on catching up to him before he did something stupid. I found him in the main dining area lifting up two chairs at a time, clearly unphased by the way I was looking at him. “You need help?”

“If you insist,” he dryly replied, and dropped down a chair for me. “I suppose there is a good reason for this,” he drawled in his thick French accent. “I do not engage with the English except for business sake, but this is entirely new.”

“I don’t know what to tell you,” I answered him in truth.

“I saw you talking to her outside,” he mentioned over his shoulder as he stood over the open archway of both rooms. “You looked… what is the word… familiar with her.”

“You can say that.”

“ _Very_ familiar,” he clarified, after he looked over his shoulder to glare at me. “I find the matter disgusting, but as you are English it only adds to my overall revulsion to your kind.”

“If you want me to leave, then I will leave.”

“No,” he said with energy. “Stay!”

“I trust you won’t put anything in my cup of tea.”

“You are safe, monsieur! Perfectly safe.” He laughed lightly at me as he added, “I can say you are not the first man I have heard that has sleeps with their slave’s.” My cheeks turned bright red at that, and I looked down at my hand that was firmly gripping the chair in front of me. I was frozen to the spot while the French man was able to move freely about the slaves’ quarters, assuring me that he would get a candle out for us to see. “Go inside, monsieur,” he strongly urged, after he realized I was cemented to the same spot. I never moved until Fredrick reached forward to take the chair out of my tight grasp, holding it high so he could maneuver it around the room.

“Gabe,” Michael lightly stated with a hand raised in the air for me to take. “Its okay.”

“We should leave.”

“We’re safe.”

“Michael.”

“Safe,” she repeated, before she motioned me forward. “Have a seat.”

My body was rigidly by the time I sat in my chair, fidgeting with the sleeves of my long coat as I reflected over the man’s words. “I think we should go,” I advised. “By all accounts he should kick us onto the street.”

“He won’t.”

“How do you know?”

“He’s curious,” Michael reasoned. “And I think its safe to say he wants to know the reason behind your actions.”

“A philosopher,” I teased. “No Michael, he is buying time so he can send in authorities.”

“No.” She raised her head proudly when the man returned to the room, holding up a tray of empty teacups with one hand and a candle in another.

“My servant shall attend to you,” he stiffly replied. “Don’t be surprised if he is a little shocked.”

“A little,” I laughed in pure mockery.

“A lot,” the man assented. “My name is Joshua.”

“Gabriel.”

“The name of an angel. A sort of guardian I believe, if my memory serves right.”

“I suppose.”

The candle was laid in the center of our table, and then he laid out the tea cups with care. “I’d like an extra charge for this.”

“You will get it.”

“Times are hard,” he huffed aloud. “And life has been difficult ever since you English people have been pushing yourself in.”

“I’ve been hearing that a lot.”

“There are talks of going further up north,” he told me. “Other of sailing back to France, and there are even some that call for a staged resistance.”

“You lost the war.”

“I feel it painfully,” he muttered to himself. “But I am not a soldier, not like you.” He caught the raise of my chin and knew he had me there. “You have an air of a military man.”

“Do I?”

“Yes, you are an easy man to read Gabriel.”

“Imagine that, Michael. I’m an open book.”

“With queer taste in woman,” he added quickly. “Michael? Isn’t that a man’s name.”

“It could be,” I answered for her. “But as you can see, she is not a man.”

“No.” He smirked at me cunningly. “But _you_ would know that, wouldn’t you?”

I laid the palm of my hand against the table threateningly but took up no further action. “The tea will be right up. Do not worry, monsieur, I made it nice and strong for you.”

I watched him go with a suspicious air, uncertain of whether I could fully trust him. I let my eyes fall over Fredrick, knowing how deep in thought he looked for a boy so young of age. “What do you think of him?”

He continued to stare through the open archway, looking lost in thought as he answered: “I don’t know.”

“Michael?”

She crossed her arms in ill-humour and let herself lean back fully in her chair. “I think he likes getting a reaction out of you. Hatred runs deep for him. I wouldn’t do anything to upset him further.”

“Like what for example?”

 “Anything that I would disapprove of.”

“That narrows it down,” I taunted, which made her shake her head at me once again this morning. “I feel like this is all too good to be true.”

“How about instead of antagonizing the man you try and befriend him?”

“What’s the point?”

“You have many enemies Gabriel. Wouldn’t you like to have a friend for once?”

“I want him to serve me my tea and breakfast.”

“Which he doesn’t have to do,” she reminded me. “Be nice.”

“Nice,” I snarled out with disdain.

“I know you have it in you.” I grimaced at her once I heard footsteps approaching, knowing she was probably in the right. “It will help him understand.”

“The fact that I am eating with you?”

“Every decision you have ever made thus far, including this one.” She pointed her finger upon the table to stress her point. “You cannot win them over with hate, Gabriel.”

 _She has a point,_ I reflected, and then considered it was time for a change of heart. 

 


	31. Mistake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel comes to terms with his past mistakes.

A thin man walked in with his hands full of a large rounded tray, a simple white teapot was placed in the center of it which made him balance it carefully. His bald head shined in the bright lighting from the candle, bringing a warm orange glow to his dark skin. His eyes were ever so intent on being cast downwards, not wanting to make eye contact with myself and company.

“Merci,” Michael quietly offered him once he set the piping hot teapot down on the table. The man made no acknowledgment, though his hands trembled once he reached for the tiny spout for our milk. I offered a thank you to him as well in English, a thing that made his eyes glance up in surprise. Eye contact was held for a moment, and then he directed it to right where Fredrick was at my elbow. _He doesn’t know what to think._

Fredrick murmured he had to go to the bathroom, and Michael took that opportunity to get out of her seat to take him. “I can do it,” I offered, but she blatantly turned it down. “Are you sure?”

“We will be quick,” she assured me, and then took little Fredrick’s hand to lead him out of the room.

A tiny bowl was placed near my open hand, letting the white sugar sharply contrast off the dark brown bowl. I glanced upwards to see the man apparently staring at me, but he quickly directed it away once I caught his curious gaze. “What’s your name?” I demanded, knowing it was in his nature to answer me.

“Paul,” he mouthed out quietly. The tray was protectively placed over his chest, a nervous prying of fingers around the edges could be seen to show his discomfort.

“Gabriel.”

His tongue jutted out to lick his bottom lip, and the lids of his eyes batted frantically. I knew he wanted to leave but unfortunately for Paul he was obligated to stay until he was dismissed.

“How long have you been here?”

“I don’t speak good English,” he responded after a while.

“A Frenchmen,” I concluded. “I will need Michael to be my translator.”

“Michael?”

“The girl here,” I relayed with a frequent pointing to the seat beside me.

“Michael?” he expressed with disbelief, and then I realized it was because it was a man’s name.

“Michael,” I rectified. “Female… girl.” A heavy pat on the seat beside me would hopefully be enough for Paul to get my meaning.

“Michael,” he said with narrowed lids to his eyes. “Girl?”

“Yes,” I drawled out with annoyance.

“I understand.”

Fortunately for me, the woman in question suddenly appeared, her hand tightly wrapped around Fredrick’s small one as they walked through the doorway. “Bonjour,” Michael softly relayed to Paul once she passed him by, though she looked uneasy doing it. It wasn’t until she let go of Fredrick’s hand that I realized she was embarrassed; it was the first time we were so open about our relationship in front of another slave.

Feeling bold I took a hold of her hand, laying it on the table for all to see. Paul blinked at it profusely, staring at our joined hands as if he couldn’t believe his eyes. Fredrick was silent as well, taking in everyone’s actions with extra attentiveness. “Michael,” I stated loudly, and then turned my direction to the woman I loved so very dearly. “This is Paul.” She offered him a shy smile, looking just as uncomfortable as the man in front of her. “And this little one is Fredrick,” I informed the man in front of us.

“Good morning,” he sleepily relayed, showing how truly adopted to the English culture he was. Paul unfortunately did not know how to respond, he could only cling to his rounded tray tighter to keep himself composed.

There was a sound of a door opening in the main lobby area, letting us know that some new customers had arrived in Joshua’s café. Paul quietly excused himself and promptly left us, moving faster than any of us expected as he briskly walked out the open doorway.

Fredrick moved forward in his seat, drawing small lines across the smooth tabletop for his own enjoyment. Michael brought our joined hands closer to her, offering me a reassuring smile to calm my nerves. “It will be fine,” she uttered softly.

“I only hope you are right.”

“He won’t bring them back here,” she whispered, knowing the peppy voices coming from the main dining area put me on guard. “It would be too embarrassing.”

“For who?”

“Him.” She leaned into the side of me and pecked a light kiss on the top of my shoulder. “And you.”

I watched her lean back into her normal position, wishing those lips could press over more parts of me. She saw that look in my eyes and did her best to avoid my gaze, looking over my shoulder to have a peak at Fredrick instead. She was using him as a distraction but two could play at that game, so I leaned into a space she never expected, pressing my lips against the exposed part of her neck. She gasped out loudly to get Fredrick’s attention, and then did her best to push me away from her once she became embarrassed. I ignored her, decorating the side of her necks with my lips with a hard press against the side of her waist to hold her in place. She moaned out my name softly, hoping that would be enough to keep me away. _Like that will ever happen._ Her scent was different, however, reminding me of the night she spent in that cold basement. A momentary image flashed through my mind’s eyes, which was enough for me to part my lips from her neck and return to my normal position.

“What is it?” Michael asked with worry. I puckered my lips into the air and simply shrugged at her as a feeble answer. “Something happened.”

“Nothing.”

“Gabe?”

I lifted the teapot, imaging it was steeped by now, and poured it into her cup first. She watched me attentively, those dark eyes of hers were curious than ever. I was reaching for Fredrick’s when she laid a hand over my forearm. “It is nothing,” I drawled out with bitterness.

“What is it?”

“I am mad at myself for letting you sleep there last night,” I reluctantly confessed. She released her hold over me, allowing me to take up Fredrick’s cup as well.

“People make mistakes.”

“Not that one.”

“I didn’t expect it to be that bad either,” she revealed to me. “But it was another reminder of what I truly am.”

I settled Fredrick’s cup down in front of him, not wanting to make eye contact with anyone right now.

Paul entered the room with a handwritten note, detailing all the things they had to offer for breakfast this morning. “Do you speak French?” he asked with worry but was soon delighted to find out Michael was able to read his master’s note.

Michael assured the man that we would be perfectly fine, and then leaned back in her seat to verbally translate the list of things we could have for breakfast this morning. I felt happy then, much happier than I have felt in a long time. She leaned into my shoulder as she went down the list, not making a fuss when I pulled her body into me with a firm grip around her waist. Fredrick eyed us with wonder, but it was not as traumatic as the first time he witnessed our public affection. Michael paused down her list when she felt a soft peck at the back of her nape, knowing there was no point for chiding my actions. “Are you listening?” she reprimanded me.

“Every word.”

She cleared her throat with purpose once she felt my frisky hands moving below her waist, knowing it was restless to feel her underneath the cover of the table. It stopped at the top of her lap, realizing it was best to listen because Michael wouldn’t be willing to repeat it for the second time. “How much money can you spare?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Gabe.”

“This may be the only time the three of us can sit together,” I pointed out. “I intend to enjoy it.”

“He has a big breakfast but-”

“-three orders of those,” I interjected.                          

“We still have to consider the carriage we must hire.”

“It will be fine.”

“And then we will need a third one,” she continued. “How else will we get to the house?”

“Let me worry about it,” I answered her quickly, bringing my hand upwards to rest over her stomach. “I’ll take care of it.”

She turned her head to me, letting me see her beautiful face. There was no hesitation on both of our parts to lock our lips together, deepening it by the second as we got lost in each other. Michael was the first to part it, shutting the lids of her eyes contently. “Okay.”

I leaned into her for one last time, pressing my lips hard over hers until they formed naturally into each other. It felt like it had been ages since we had done this, so long since I tasted those lips that I was always delirious of. “Thank you,” I hushed in front of her face, before I inched my face away from hers. There were footsteps coming down the hallway and it wouldn’t due to have Joshua or Paul see us this way.

When I caught sight of Fredrick, he looked embarrassed, dragging his fingers over the table-top in sharp jagged lines to show his obvious discomfort. The last of my observation was disrupted by Paul’s presence, and nothing could hide his shocked expression when Michael was still resting under the wing of my arm. “Three large breakfasts,” I piped up immediately. “Michael translate it if you need too.” The woman laying against my chest relayed the same information in her native tongue, though the man was so emotionless it was difficult for me to perceive his present feelings about her and I. Paul left us with a nervous nod, scampering out of the room as fast as he could. I imagined Michael would move away from me, but instead she tilted her head into a more comfortable position and closed her eyes with peacefulness.

“Fredrick, are you cold?”

“No, I’m fine,” he replied in a sensible voice. “Its warm here.”

“We are near the kitchen,” I relayed. “Let me know if you feel any discomfort.” I pushed Michael against my body more, laying a kiss on the top of her head with pure love. “You too,” I hushed for only her to hear.

“You are keeping me warm,” she unexpectedly rebutted.

“I’ll do it tonight as well,” I warned, until I realized Fredrick was seated at the table with us. “By giving you an extra blanket of course.”

She giggled at my remark, knowing my thoughts were in a completely different direction. She was still having her monthly bleeding, so it wasn’t like anything could happen anyways. I tiredly turned my gaze towards the open doorway, hoping the food would come soon. Michael broke my thoughts by snuggling herself against me more, letting her head nuzzle against the front of my shoulder. Fredrick’s slippering brought me back into the present moment, squinting funnily as he tried the piping hot tea. “You like it Fredrick?”

“Hot,” was my sole answer.

“I have to try mine too,” I mused aloud, and did my best to not shift Michael off me so I could try a taste of the tea. Fredrick watched me idly, making sure he was drinking the hot beverage the same time I did. It was clear I was becoming a role model for him, a thing that gave me some pride.

“Its so peaceful here,” Michael piped up. I nodded my head at her in agreement, feeling the distance voices coming from the main dining room wasn’t enough to break the tranquil moment. Their words were lost to me anyways, there was no way I could decipher the statements that made them laugh in the other room.

“Are you happier now?” I inquired, soft enough to not disturb Michael’s peaceful moment.

“Yes.”

“Okay,” I breathed out softly, feeling my chest dip downwards in relief.

“Thank you for trying,” she mumbled. “I know you got me out of there for a good reason. I was upset, I know.” Her hand reached downwards to lay it over mine. “But I know you had the right intentions.”

“I can’t change the world,” I retorted. “I will never change what people think of you.” My hand flipped upwards so I could interlace my fingers into hers. “But I want to try.”

“You already are,” she reminded me. “You are doing it right now.” Her smile was warm, beaming from her face; chestnut brown eyes sparkled in the candlelight. My heart warmed at the sight of her, making my chest heave upwards with ecstasy. “This very moment,” she added, as she tightened her grip in my hand. There are no words to express how I felt at that moment, but it was shown by me closing my eyes tightly with a lowered head. A tiny kiss was laid over my brow as a thank you, and I felt there was no such bliss as this.

* * *

We were nearly done our meal when the store owner and cook approached our table with a chair in hand. It was propped down in an empty space, placed directly before me before he had a seat. “The floor is yours, monsieur,” he quipped energetically. “I want to know all.”

“A little vague,” I mumbled with a full mouth.

“Tell me about your situation,” he relayed with an open hand gestured towards Michael and Fredrick. “Explain.”

“I thought you already figured it out.” Michael jabbed her elbow into my arm to get me to behave.

“So, you and her are…”

“Together,” I finished for him.

“But this is more than…” Joshua was unable to finish his sentence again. A hand lifted upwards to scratch at his bushy white hair, making the tight curls unravel between his smoothly elegant fingers. “I am not sure how to word it without being impolite,” he concluded. Joshua’s hands dropped to the table, and with a single finger he pointed it towards Fredrick. “Or indecent in front of him.”

“No,” I answered him, hoping that would be the end of it.

“She’s a companion.”

“Michael is a companion.” He smirked at me whimsically, and then let his fingers touch his thick moustache with playfulness. “What is it?”

“I grant it you are very pretty.” Michael appeared surprised by his first addressment to her. “And young,” he gibed, since it was directed towards me. “But they hire people for that.”

“That’s…” I paused as I tried to come up with the right words. “She isn’t intended for that.”

“Then I fail too understand,” He drawled out impatiently.

“How? Isn’t it obvious?” The man leaned back in his seat in silent contemplation, evidently lost to the very thing I was implicating. “If she was the same colour as you and myself, then this wouldn’t even be up for debate.” Joshua darted his gaze between Michael and I. “What do you think this is?”

“Hmmmm.” He turned his gaze to Fredrick, a bit unnerved that the boy was able to maintain a level gaze with him. “Explain him.”

“I picked him up recently.”

“And you started a little family now, did you?”

“Unintentionally.”

“This is a first,” he deliberated aloud.

“So?”

“Yes?” he rebutted with interest.

“What do you think?”

He leaned his elbow against the table, supporting his head as he rested his chin on the palm of his hand. Calm brown eyes watched the light flicker of the candlelight, falling into its spell with complacent ease. “I should be repulsed by it.” His lips puckered outwards. “I am repulsed but…” A lengthy silence followed, making Michael lock eyes with me to make sure I felt the same unease. “It is a most curious situation to be in.”

“Oh, I know.”

“The problem when you become too familiar with negroes.” He paused, noticing the flash of anger betrayed in my eyes.

“Yes, I suppose so.”

“Lines blur and all that.” He pointed his fingers at the two individuals he was referring too. “I shouldn’t even be sitting here at the table with them.” A quirk of his lip went upwards mischievously. “Neither should you.”

“No.”

“And this is what happens when you do,” he said with indignation.

“They are suddenly on the same level as you.”

“Oui,” he gruffly replied. “That is exactly it!”

“Something that can never be,” I said with utter sarcasm. “Imagine the world… the chaos if it did.”

“I know,” he agreed quickly, clearly unaware that I was using dry sarcasm. “I don’t want to live in a world like that.”

“No, why would you?”

“First the English come northward to invade our lands and take over our industries. You know how many friends I’ve been losing since this war began? Or the ones I am losing even now?”

“Many.”

“More than I can count,” he jeered. “And that’s just the English! Now, you want to bring in this nonsense of Negroes being the same level as us. What? You want them to be equal? God gave us this land to be conquerors over all, the things that are living and non-living, and that includes _them._ ” My jaw tightened at that, feeling my self-control was quickly dwindling. “Sleep with them for all I care,” he added after a lengthily pause. “Be the dominant one… inbreed them if you wish.” My shoulders rolled back defensively in a threatening manner, but Joshua continued: “But don’t sit at the damn table with them and make them your _equal._ ”

“Then I suggest you leave.”

He laughed at me in pure mockery and then followed it with an irritating grinding of his chair against the tiled floor. “I’ll be back with the bill.” The chair was pushed in with a loud clamour until it rocked against the table. “And be happy I gave you something.”

I grunted at him in response and did my best to stare him down until he left. Michael was the first to speak the second he left the room. “Don’t lose your temper,” she warned. “Gabe.” A hand was placed on the side of my arm, stroking the thick cloth of my jacket to calm me down.

“I feel our situation is hopeless,” I confessed.

An unexpected hand laid over my left hands, and I looked down to see Fredrick was trying to console me as well.

“Its not,” Michael assured me, before she leaned in to kiss the side of my cheek. “You have us.”

“I do.”

“That’s all that matters,” she reminded me. “And nothing that man can say can change that.”

“No.”

“Let’s put on our things,” she suggested. “Its time to go.”

“Okay,” I submitted since I was still in a daze. She helped me out of my chair, laying on my scarf snug around my neck with extra care. My favourite hat was laid over my head next, a tiny smile escaped her knowing I had bought her a matching one. “Thank you, Michael.”

“No,” she whispered fervently. “Thank you.”


	32. Safety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are starting to look up for Michael and Gabriel. Their determination to not have the family be split apart means they will have to make certain sacrifices, but Gabriel is willing to endure them as long as he has Michael and Fredrick at his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little bit lighter. I hope you enjoy it :)

I was the last one to enter the carriage, slamming it behind me so the driver would get my point. Michael smirked at me slyly, already getting a hint of my sullen mood. “He wasn’t discrete.”

She patted the empty seat next to her, inviting me to take a place by her side. “At least he accepted it.” Our fingers interlaced with one another instantly, and I let out a heavy sigh after I leaned my back against the frigid seat.

“Four carriages later,” I muttered, which only received a light chuckle from her. “I’m not asking for the moon.”

“You wanted us to share a carriage with you,” she reminded me. “For some it was.”

I snarled at her before I forced my gaze away from her. “Its because I’m _English._ ”

“No,” she laughed, but I knew she partially agreed with me.

“And I know for a fact that the driver is overcharging me.”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“He is!” I yelled out. Fredrick was readjusting his blanket across his legs, getting ready for the long drive ahead of us. He looked comfortable in our presence; I sensed a change in him after we were sent out the back door of the French café, probably realizing how far I would go to put him and Michael first. “No matter, we drive for the rest of the day. We’ll take up lodgings and by this time the next morning we will enter the small town that the real estate agent suggested.”

“And then we are nearly there?”

“I will have to find a way to get us through the wilderness,” I mused aloud. “Apparently the place is quite isolated.”

“So, we can’t take a carriage?”

“I am not sure,” I confessed sadly. “It depends on the weather and who would be willing to take us there. Otherwise… I might have to find us a horse.”

“And ride in the middle of a storm.”

“I don’t know Michael.” I brought our joined hands upwards and kissed the back of it, liking the feeling of her skin pressed against my lips. “We will figure it out.”

“I know we will.” It was nice for us to express ourselves as a joined partnership, knowing that whatever troubles we encountered it would be taken on together. The incident in the café in this morning should have broken us down, but Michael was there to comfort me, it was through her loving kindness that I was able to get back on my feet again. I knew Joshua’s words bothered her as much as it wounded me, but she wouldn’t speak of it aloud. “There is something on your mind,” she observed, after I stared at her visage a little too long.

“I was thinking about Joshua,” I revealed.

“Oh.”

“You think I should have said something before I left.”

“There would be no point.” Her shoulders shrugged lightly. “He had already made up his mind.”

“And wanted us out the door as fast as he could,” I added. “It was like he was a completely different person in the end.”

“Same man,” she countered. “He only hid it well.”

I laid our joined hands on the leather seat in between us, taking the time to look at my wife with an ardent gaze. She smiled shyly under my relentless gaze, knowing it wouldn’t pass away anytime soon. “He’ll never experience what we have,” I told her with confidence. Michael responded with a heavenly kiss, using her other hand to sweep the sides of my hair back so she could cup the side of my cheek. I kissed her hungrily, not caring if Fredrick was there to see us, I wanted to taste her so badly. Michael meant the world to me, a thing that made my chest heave with excitement when she continued to deepen our kisses. Our fingers untangled themselves, letting our joined hands be parted to only lay it over some part of our partner’s body. I felt her right hand sneak around the back of my nape, carving her fingernails into my skin as she stroked it back and forth. My chest leaned against hers, slamming her into the far side of the carriage without any consideration of how cold the wall would be for her. Michael’s left hand played with my growing hair, stroking the fine hairs upwards for her own pleasure. I laid my hands on the top part of her thigh, inching closer to the true prize that I so desperately wanted.

“Lorca,” she warned, once it rested over the front of her waist.

“Hmmmm,” I moaned into her mouth, since I was still intent on kissing her. She used the palms of her hands to settle over the front of my shoulders and with a strong push Michael managed to break me away from her. “Michael?”

“I think you had enough.”

“No.”

“Gabriel,” she scolded with half a grin. She was teasing me, but I knew her words were said in earnest. “No more.” I licked my lips at her, a reluctant biting of my bottom lip followed until it was wet and plump before her. “We aren’t alone anymore.”

I sighed after I looked over my shoulder to see a rather uncomfortable boy sitting on the opposite side of the carriage. “Can’t we give him a book,” I moaned, which earned another push to separate our forms completely. “Michael.”

“We can,” she slyly replied with a dangerous look in her eyes. “And you will be reading it to him.”

“No I won’t.”

“You will.” She stood to her feet and slinked over to Fredrick’s side of the carriage to unearth the world atlas. “You can start with this one.”

“I thought it was your job.”

“It takes both members to raise a child,” she replied with a serious air about her. “It is your turn.”

“Fine.” My arm stretched out to snatch the book from her hands, and with a deep grumble I took my seat next to Fredrick with the book open on my lap. “Right!” I barked out with annoyance. “Where should we begin?”

* * *

Fredrick was laying over my chest, preparing himself for a deep sleep that he would ultimately fall into. Michael was sitting across from me with a blanket covering the whole of her form, only her head poked out from the top of the blanket as she laid there curled up in a little ball. She had fallen asleep long ago, leaving me to whisper out the different parts of northern Africa to this silent child beside me. I had some knowledge of the extend world, but not enough to truly teach Fredrick the ways of the world. History was lost to me at times, but I could recite much of Great Britain’s myths and legends, so the last half hour was tales of Kings and their brutal wars that happened a long time ago. Fredrick had listened attentively, but now was the time to simply reflect on all the things I had said.

“Will you go back home?” he whispered out of the blue, breaking me out of my deep reverie.

“This is _my_ home.”

He nervously fidgeted with his fingers, still having trouble to speak openly with me.

“Will something bad happen to us?”

“Like what?” I whispered so Michael couldn’t hear my voice.

“I’ll be taken away again.”

“You are staying with me.”

“But won’t they take me away?”

“Why?”

“Because…” He pulled at the tips of his fingers, making it stroke back and forth nervously. “They do not like how you treat us.”

“I treat you as human beings,” I told him. “And if they don’t like that than they can go to hell.” His eyes darkened at that word, probably unfamiliar with someone using the damnable place so casually. “Its my job to protect you.”

“Why?”

“Because I care for you,” I quickly rapped out. “And Michael does too.”

“I know,” he gently whispered, and in that moment his hands ceased to fidget with each other. He dropped them over the blanket, letting it rest peacefully over his lap. “It feels like I have my grandma again.”

“I’m your guardian,” I informed him.

“Guardian?”

“Protector.” My fingers stroked through his tight curls softly, liking the way it tangled itself around the tips of my fingers. “Sort of like a parent… a father.”

“Father,” he repeated with meaning.

“I could be that for you, Fredrick. If that is what you want?”

He nodded his head curtly, and then dropped his gaze from me to fall into a deep state of mediation. I left him to his silence, taking the time to cast my gaze to Michael that still laid there fast asleep.

“I would want that,” I found myself mumbling aloud. “To be your father.”

Large black eyes lifted upwards to settle over my piercing sapphire coloured eyes that radiated from my pale face; a length of time passed by before he nodded his head in silent agreement. I rested my hand atop of his head, steading him for a moment before I revealed: “I know you have parents of your own. I will help you find them, and when you are a little older, I will make you a _free_ slave.” There was a deliberate pause to simply catch his reaction. “I will give you money and I will help you find them.” Fredrick’s eyes widen at that, full of life at the prospect of him being free. “And when you do… you will be educated with the ability to speak both French and English.” The boy smiled at my words, letting his gaze fall over Michael who would ultimately teach him these things. “And through this knowledge, Fredrick, I hope that one day you will be able to enact change.”

“Enact?”

“Start.”

“Start change?”

“Yes.” My hand slid off the top of his head to rest over his small shoulder. “It starts _here._ ”

* * *

One could call it a poor house, but I wasn’t exactly sure what to call it. The hotel I originally intended to stay at refused my request to have Michael and Fredrick share a room with me, so to both of our surprises I stepped away from the front desk with every intention of making my own way in life.

The tiny room belonged to the Catholic church, a sort of halfway house for people in financial destitution that could not find a proper form of shelter over the cold winter nights. The man in charge understood it was for a single night and took us to an empty chamber for us to stay, offering only an armful of blankets to keep us warm. “There is no bed,” was the first thing Michael observed.

“Here it is,” I mockingly quipped as I held the same blankets that the man had offered us.

“You can’t be serious.” Her eyebrow quirked up in surprise, but soon the shock had left her, and she began to unfold the blankets in my arms to lay it across the empty floor. Fredrick was in the toilet, so it gave us some privacy for a moment.

“How are you feeling?”

“Tired.”

“I meant in terms of your pain.”

“Oh?” She looked embarrassed for a moment. “It’s gone.”

“But you’re not done?”

She took the last of the blankets from my outstretched arms, reading the unsaid question in my bright blue eyes. “No, Gabriel.”

I stuffed my hands into the pockets of my coat. “Okay.”

“You mind taking out our night clothes?”

“Sure,” I lifelessly replied, before I turned my back to her. There was no issue with waiting for her monthly period to end, it was just getting harder not showing any outwardly affection for her. Fredrick’s presence made it nearly impossible, and I felt like the threads to my sanity were quickly snapping away. I stood in front of the makeshift bed with her dress in hand, holding it out for her to see it in all its glory. In truth it was a drab little thing, though I liked to see it on her all the same. “Will you undress in front of me?” I cunningly asked when her back was still towards me.

“And have Fredrick come out?”

“We can ask him to wait.”

She spread out the last of the blankets with her fingertips, and then crouched forward until she could sit down on the bed. “I don’t think that is a good idea.”

I went on my knees in front of her, draping the dress over her the tops of her legs. “Why not?”

“I thought it was fairly obvious.”

“Michael, I don’t think I can stand waiting for you much longer.”

“Self-control would be key.”

“Well, I _don’t_ have it!” She looked shocked by my accusation, noticing how much I was creeping into her space once temptation began to creep its way into my mind. “We did something not to long ago,” I began. “I was hoping you could do it again.”

“Fredrick is seven.”

“He can stay in the bathroom.”

She shook her head at me in denial. “No, Gabriel. Please do not ask of me again.” She picked up the dress and crawled forward, unintentionally rubbing her legs against my own before she stood proudly to her feet. “I should check on him.”

“And what about me? Do you even care what I want anymore?”

“You want sex,” she bluntly replied. “But now is not the time.”

“Then _when?_ ” I demanded with a fierceness to my voice. Michael blinked at me with a disturbing look in her eyes, a sudden cock of the head ensued and then she strode away from me to knock on the bathroom door.

“Fredrick!” she called out. “Are you alright?”

“Yes.”

She waited in front of the door, leaning her ear against the doorway. “I’m just going to change out here. Stay in there for a few more minutes, alright?”

“Okay.”

Michael turned her back to the door, catching sight of my hungry stare on her person. She huffed out loudly before she walked towards me, knowing I was watching her with every step. “This isn’t for your benefit.”

I smirked at her fiendishly. I was on my feet in no time at all, laying my hands around the back of her neck so I could kiss her lips slowly. She stood there like a statue, completely resolute, but I knew it was only a matter of time till she gave in. One sneaky hand grabbed her dress out of her fingers, prying open her fingers so I could interlace ours together. My lips earnestly sought out her own, lathering her with painfully slow kisses that stretched out for several moments. She moaned out reluctantly, liking the way my left hand stroked the length of her back. Her body morphed into my hand, spine curling over with every sultry touch I applied to her. She tilted her head to kiss me back, making the sound ignite in the air around us. “Undress for me,” I asked of her, once I cunningly parted our lips.

“I can’t go all the way.”

“That’s fine,” I answered her with narrowed eyes.

“I’m bleeding and-”

“-Michael,” I cut in.

“And my body has changed,” she revealed, and looked down at her chest with meaning. “That is to say…” Her eyes flickered to mine, and then she lowered them shyly. “You will not like it.”

“Why would you think that?”

“I…”

“I think you’re beautiful, Michael.” Her gaze lifted at my words, and then she smiled timidly. I brought our joined hands upwards, kissing the front of her knuckles with longing. “You do know that, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“We haven’t much time.” I looked over her shoulder to the closed bathroom door. “Another minute at the most.” I parted our joined hands, intent on removing her coat before Michael could fight back. It shed to the floor, dark fabric swimming around her like a great pool of water. Heavy hands rested over her small rounded shoulders, staring deep into her eyes as though I couldn’t get enough. “Beautiful,” I assured her, and then leaned forward cautiously before I laid my lips over her own. She kissed me with longing, blissfully stroking her fingers over the side of my face with wonder. My arms wrapped around her form tightly, amazed by the amount of feelings this woman could bring forth from me. I loved touching her and feeling my arms wrapped around her in such a protective manner. Michael kissed me quickly, making me smile against my own free will.

“Minute is up,” she teased, and then pushed me off her so she could turn around. “Unbutton it,” she asked of me, and pointed at the large navy-blue buttons that went down the back of her dress.

I performed the task at a leisurely pace, simply watching the way her body shuddered as the cold air in the room nipped at her skin. Goosebumps were exposed over the tops of her shoulders, and when I pushed her dress down, I had the pleasure of seeing the corset I had bought from her long ago. “You are wearing the nice one?”

“The other one needs to be hand washed.”

I pushed the remainder of her dress down to her hips, stopping there since I knew she wouldn’t want me to go any further. I leaned forward to kiss the front of her neck and collarbone, using a hand to arch her back inwards to have her chest pressed against my own. My movements were seductive; encapsulated by her beauty and grace I held nothing back as I explored her body with my soft pink lips. Michael’s fingers got lost in my hair, pulling me into her chest the lower I explored her area. She made a noise but quickly silence it, since she remembered Fredrick could possibly hear us. I untied the front of her corset with my teeth, letting the strings fall down at an incredibly slow pace to simply tease her. My nose went into the valley of her breasts, and soon my tongue lapped at the tiny exposed area. “I want you,” I cooed deeply, hearing the temptation vibrate throughout my voice. Fingers went upwards to untie the rest of her corset. “Michael.” I pried the fabric open, delighted to see her chest spill out as the last of the fabric clung to her frame. A heavy hand pushed it off her and I bent forward to take a breast in with my mouth, opening it wide to suck at her perk nipples that were sharpened by the cold. She made a low moan, and then used her free hand to cover her mouth. Two long arms went around her lower spine, shoving her body into me as I took in more of her breasts.

“Oh god,” she whimpered, clearly lost by the way my tongue flicked upwards against her perk nipple. “Gabe,” she quietly moaned, unable to keep in the sounds any longer.

“One more second,” I begged, and used my free hand to squeeze at her other breast, using my fingers to fondle her incessantly. Her knees buckled forward from the pressure, heavily aroused by the things I was doing to her. My lips released her to only kiss at her swollen breasts, giving it extra care to show that the size meant nothing to me. “There.”

Her eyes were on fire by the time I took a step back. “Ugh,” she grunted, while a hand reached upwards to tug at the front of my coat.

“I know.”

She tugged at my sleeve for the second time, clearly wanting us to continue.

“The boy.”

She grunted fiercely, and then turned away from me to retrieve the dress off the ground. “Turn away for a moment,” she asked of me, and I followed her instructions so she could get fully changed. “You think there is enough bath water for me too?”

“I will ask for more.”

“Will they give it to us?”

“Yes, Michael.” I looked down at the single ring on my finger, considering if I should switch it to my left one. “Should I ask for it now?”

“Wait a second.”

“Okay.”

I heard fabric dropping on the floor, letting me know she was changing. I shifted my weight from one leg to the next, clearly aware of the throbbing down below. “How many days do you think you have left?”

“Until its over?”

“Uh huh.”

“A few more,” Michael replied in earnest; the closeness of her voice made me look over my shoulder to see her standing directly behind me. “By the time we are in our new place.”

“Where I can have you all to myself,” I warned after I turned around to face her. “Fredrick better have a bed to himself.” She laughed at my remark, clearly entertained with the idea. “And you will have to learn to be quiet, Michael.”

“We make him uncomfortable.” She fidgeted with the dress she wore throughout the day. “Should we talk to him about it?”

“If you wish.”

“Its not only our colour,” she continued. “It’s the way we…”

“Our open affection for one another.”

She tugged at the bottom of her night gown, making sure it fit perfectly. “Yes.” Long strides proceeded her, and she neatly folded her dress into my open luggage. “Should I take out yours as well?”

“Let me ask for more water first.”

“We could go outside and take up some snow.”

“Hmmm,” I mumbled in agreement. “And watch it slowly melt.”

She laughed at my remark, and then let her eyes sparkle for a moment or two. “I will let Fredrick come out now.”

“And I will go get _warm_ water.”

“Thank you, Gabriel.”

“You mind if I wash first? I have been putting it off.”

“Yes, of course.”

“Alright.” She stood in front of my luggage, letting her eyes linger over me. It was clear she didn’t want me to part from her just yet. “I’ll be right back.”

“I love you Gabriel,” she unexpectedly replied. “I really do.”

“I love you too.” Her smile practically beamed from her face, full of ecstasy at the prospect of us being so madly in love with each other. “You take care of yourself till I get back.”

“Don’t worry, Gabriel. I will.”

 


	33. Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel and Michael enjoy the last of their journey, feeling ever hopeful for the place they can soon call their home.

I was happy to see it was a clear day; vibrant blue skies hovered over my head as I kept my gaze on the horizon. There were scarcely any trees in this area, only rolling rocky hills that our carriage carefully maneuvered around. Our route took us close to the Saint Lawrence River or the _Fleuve Saint-Laurent_ as Michael referred to it with her impeccable French accent. There was not a snowflake in the sky, and no sign of the high winter winds any time soon. Fredrick was in a deep form of sleep, his body completely shrouded in a heavy grey blanket. Michael was wide awake, however, leaning into my chest to have a peek through the crack of the drapes. “It’s a nice day.” Michael nodded her head in silent agreement. “We should arrive in the town by nightfall.”

“Another long day.”

“I get to spend it with you!” I wisely shot back. “I see no room for complaint.”

“You’re right.” Michael took a hold of my wrist and pulled my hand away from the dangling drapes, drawing it over her to her lips so she could kiss the back of it. The carriage was covered in darkness again, enough for me to only make out the lean silhouette of my wife. She turned my hand around and gently kissed the palm of it, letting it linger there for an uncommonly long time. “Thank you for keeping us together last night.”

“I wanted us all to be safe,” I told her. “And I learned my lesson from the night before.”

“How did you think Fredrick took it last night?” she asked of me. “Us sleeping together but separate from him?”

“I think he appreciated the space.”

“He must have been cold.”

“He is a child, Michael, but he is mature.” I smiled at her whimsically as I added, “Much more than I was at his age.” I leaned forward, encroaching on her space as I quietly relayed, “And I liked us sleeping together again… even if nothing happened.” I winked at her playfully, making Michael laugh out reluctantly as she could sense my unuttered thoughts.

She released my hand, letting it fall naturally back to my form. “Oh Gabe,” escaped her lips, and then she leaned backwards to let her head rest over my chest. My arms strategically curled themselves around her, dipping it deep under her blanket until it rested over the bottom of her stomach.

“I keep thinking about our new home,” I confessed aloud. “And how beautiful it will be.”

“You might not like the reality, Gabe. Its supposed to be a very old home.”

“I never meant it that way,” I explained. “I was speaking more of the freedom we will have.”

“Because its so isolated.”

“Yes.”

“I understand,” she replied with the same level-headed look she often wore around me.

“Its like we have to go to the end of the world just to be together.” She giggled softly, knowing I was exaggerating our situation. “But there is light at the end of the tunnel.”

“Hope.”

“Maybe that is all we need,” I deliberated aloud. “Fredrick too.”

“Uh huh,” she mumbled through barely parted lips.

I bent my head forward to kiss her crown, feeling my lips push through her tightened curls till I could reach her scalp. Her hair did not have the familiar scent of honey in it, but it felt that same way, like the first time she let me drag my fingers through her thick texture. My heart felt warm whenever I thought about her confessing her love for me last night, and the look in her eyes whenever I walked about the rented room. I knew I was lucky to have her love, so very fortunate that things worked out the way they did. Michael had apparently spoken about the two of us displaying affection for one another to Fredrick, willingly lending an open ear to the troubled boy that finally expressed his discomfort over the whole thing. It would take a while for him to fully understand how a white man could be in love with a black woman; a master wanting to marry his slave. I grimaced at my darkened thoughts, knowing his disbelief would be like anyone else if they ever found out the truth. They never could unearth the truth, however, it could land me in serious legal troubles: a fine, jailtime, maybe even an order of an execution for Michael. I could never let my thoughts linger to the “what ifs” but I knew deep down inside that it was something to consider, or even prepare for if necessary.

“Michael,” I whispered. There was a brief pause before she turned her head in my direction, noticing the change in my voice. “Remind me to send my mail to my sister when we are in town. I have so much on my mind I keep forgetting.”

“I will.”

“She needs to know that I moved,” I breathed out fretfully. “Though given the isolation of my new home it will take even longer to receive mail from her.”

“You’re worried about your nephew.”

“Sometimes,” I sighed out. “I feel like all I ever do is _worry_.”

“I will remind you to post the mail,” she assured me.

“Thank you.” My chest heaved in the air despite Michael’s weight over me, and then dipped down low with the stressful weight that continually leaned upon me. _It can’t be helped,_ I surmised, knowing my nephew’s serious illness was out of my control. I tried to turn my mind to something else, glancing upwards to the sleepy form of Fredrick across from me. “You think he is warming up to me?”

“Who?”

“Fredrick?”

“I think he is more open than most,” she shot out quickly. “Considering what you are.”

“He seems so natural with you,” I complained.

“Gabe.”

“I am _trying_ my best.”

“Time,” she reprimanded me. “Its been but a few days.”

“Am I do something wrong?” Michael leaned off my chest, forcing her back to rest over the carriage seat instead. “Or am I not doing enough?”

“Why are you being so hard on yourself?” she demanded. “You are doing more than most.”

“I know but-”

“-no,” she cut in softly. A hand reached upwards to cup the side of my cheek. “No.”

“I feel…”

“Gabriel you saved him from unspeakable horrors and have been nothing but kind to him,” she assured me. “Its only… you are white.” She blinked at me with hesitation, disliking the fact that she had to speak it aloud. “And he has trouble getting past that.”

“There is a wall,” I told her with sorrow.

“That he put up, not _you_.”

“How do I-”

“-no!” she cut in with a much louder voice. “It has nothing to do with you.”

“Michael,” I sighed out with desperation.

Another hand reached upwards, and soon she was cupping both of my cheeks to draw my face in. She kissed my lips deeply, making sure to soothe out my sorrows with one kiss at a time. I was breathless by the time she drew her lips away from me, caught off guard by the intensity of her gaze.

“Okay.”

“I love you so much,” she uttered in a soft voice. “Please don’t be so hard on yourself, Gabriel.”

“Okay.”

“Give it a couple of weeks.”

“Okay,” I repeated for the third time in a row.

“You care so much,” she said with relish. “I love you for that as well.” She caught my growing smile, knowing her words meant a lot to me. “Now kiss me,” she demanded, making me laugh out loudly before I crushed my lips harshly against hers. She willingly let me spread her out across the long leather seat, dragging my hands over the side of her arm as I decorated her face with chaste kisses. Her lips drew upwards to connect hers with mine, and so we let them stay connected for a little while as gave each other passionate kisses. She was my delight, my happiness, the only person that kept me going through these tough times. She was the light to my darkness, my guide, my sunshine in the middle of a storm.

Michael dragged her fingers over the side of my neck, squinting at me happily once she finally sat up to face me. I knew I would love her to the day I died. Bright blue eyes eagerly sought out her dark ones, fervently glowing at the sight of her. “You make me so happy,” I told her. She tilted my head downwards to kiss my brow, and then waited for my lids to close so she could kiss the top of them as well. I felt so delicate in front of her, entirely vulnerable when my feelings were fully exposed to Michael. It took me a while to open my eyes and when I did, it was met with a steady gaze on my person.

“So do you,” she hushed, and then offered me a genuine smile that lighted up her entire visage. _I believe every word of it._

* * *

This new town was substantially smaller, a single lane with two flagpoles at the end of it was the only thing that set this place apart from the rest of the Canadian wilderness. It was located along the icy river of the Saint Lawrence River, covered in great heaps of snow that made the buildings nearly indistinguishable. The driver had dropped off us at the edge of the street corner, and then led his carriage to the nearest stables for the night. In the darkness I held Michael’s hand, keenly aware that there were no streetlights upon this street. The pale crescent moon cast a silvery glow upon the land, making the white snow sparkle beneath my feet.

“Its cold,” broke the silent air, which made me turn my head to Michael were gusts of air escaped her barely parted lips.

“It’s the north,” I told her, and then leaned forward to peek at little Fredrick as well. He was not dressed for this weather, and he was visibly shivering beside Michael. “Let’s find lodging,” I piped up, and let go of Michael’s hand before I led the way. The decorative French flag blew in the cold winter winds, flapping beside the familiar stripped flag of Great Britain. I supposed the joined flags made me less of a threat, but I knew for a fact that the people here would be of French descent. The first lodging was a small apartment complex, so I passed by it to investigate the second one. It was a bank and post office in one, a lucky thing for me since I needed their services tomorrow morning. Michael nudged me slightly with her elbow when she noticed it was a post office, a subtle reminder that she hadn’t forgotten her promise. The next one was a joined pharmacy and doctor’s office; it was probably the largest building on the street. I turned my head to the left to see the buildings across from us, but the darkness of the street prevented me from making any of the signs out.

“No one is around,” Michael muttered with suspicion.

“Its nearly midnight.”

“I know, but still.”

A narrow brown building with more embellishments than the others stated it was the lawyer’s office, and ironically the one next to it acted as a law enforcement office. The building was closed, interestingly enough, making me think this town was safer than most. Fredrick skipped ahead to see the next one, hopping over a single log that separated the building from the next one as light as a bunny. He stopped in front of the shop and pressed his face to the glass to peer inside of the dark grocery store, probably more curious than anything else. We walked past him to have a look at the final building, seeing it was a hunting shop that was heavily guarded in the inside. I called Fredrick over just in case, and then the three of us walked close together to cross the street. Shadows of our figures cast itself upon the cool white floor, making me think that we looked like a family by our close silhouettes. Society would never allow that, but on this cold winter night at least I could believe that this vision was true.

“Trading,” Michael piped up. She went closer to the glass window where a sign was posted on the inside. “Whisky for beavers.”

“Fox, mynx, link, and otter in exchange for bullets.” I scratched my side burn on the left side of my face with my gloved fingers. “How many?”

“Animals?”

“Bullets,” I concluded. “It says it’s addressed to the Indians.”

“They are offering them alcohol for the fur of animals,” Michael stated in a questionable voice. “Why not money?”

“I don’t know, Michael.” My eyes scanned the rest of the shop, but it was too dark to see inside of it. “I’m a soldier, not a trader.”

“I know.” Her hand slipped into mine, catching me off guard for a moment. “But it’s strange,” she confessed in an uneasy voice.

“Maybe they have no need of money.”

“Everyone needs money,” she rebutted. “Especially in this day and age.”

I looked down at our joined hands, smiling at the sight of them. “Yes,” I relayed with happiness. “As always, my Michael is right.”

She made a happy noise despite her lips being closed, and then released her hold of me to wander away. Fredrick was the first to follow and then I, we took the steps to look at the second building at this side of the street to see it was shut completely with no intention of it being used anytime soon. The boarded windows ensured that, so we climbed down the steps to look at the third one that was smaller than any other. I was surprised to find it a clothing shop, though it would make sense since this was the closest town for miles. I took a mental note to pick something up for Fredrick and made sure my hand was on his shoulder as we strolled over to the next building that luckily for us had dimmed lights glowing from within the window. It was an eatery place, so I asked the two of them to wait outside so I could make a few inquiries. My hat was removed from my head before I cracked open the door and brushed my heavy boots off the sopping wet mat so I could walk further inside. The building itself was extraordinary narrow, the bar area took up most of the restaurant. It was decorated simply, and when I looked around there was no one in sight. “Hello!” I called out. Footsteps clapped overhead, and I looked around as I slowly took note it came from the ceiling up above. A minute passed by before a man appeared dressed all in black, and he stared at me quizzically as I undoubtedly did the same thing. “Bonjour.”

My shoulders fell forward, realizing he probably spoken nothing but French. “Hello,” I answered him. Silence was on his end, and I realized my first assumption was unfortunately accurate. I raised up a finger to get him to wait, and then returned to the front door only to call Michael and Fredrick inside. “Tell him you are my interpreter,” I asked of Michael, and she did my biding without hesitation.

The man answered her as quick as lightening, looking rather annoyed by the sight of me. “He asked… what do you want?”

“You can tell him.”

“Gabriel I am your slave,” she reminded me. “You have to at least open your mouth once and a while,” she joked, which brought a quick snicker from me. The man took it the wrong way, so I had to ask Michael to apologize on my behalf. “What should I tell him now?”

“Tell him I am looking for lodging for the night.”

She quickly rapped out my statement, making the man cross his arms at me in ill-humour.

“Tell him it is one night.”

Michael relayed the information quickly, taking a step forward to eclipse my form slightly so she could be fully revealed to the dark clothed stranger.

“Gabe,” she muttered. “He says there is none.”

“The driver told me there was one,” I exclaimed with anger. “Tell him that.”

She sighed briefly, but listened to my instructions, and performed it quickly so she could hear the man’s response.

“He said that it has been closed down for several weeks.” Michael took a step backwards to turn her whole body in my direction. “The man who owned it died. It could be the building that is blocked up… the one we just passed.”

“More than likely.” I darted my gaze at the man that was watching our interaction. “Michael, ask him if there is anywhere to stay for the night.”

“Okay.” She translated my message, though I noticed the severity of her voice as she uttered it. “He says there is a spare room upstairs… only one. He doesn’t know what to do with me and the boy.”

“Tell him…” I paused and glared at the man with serious intent. “They are staying with me.”

Her voice faltered when she uttered it, but I knew she was done when she shot me a nervous look. There was silence on both ends, though I continued to stare at the man until he gave us an appropriate answer. He opened his mouth and spoke a single word, and with that he turned his back to us and led the way forward. Michael and I exchanged surprised looks, and then we quickly followed the man that was leading us up the stairs. He took us down a long hallway, passing a series of closed doors before he took us to a narrow staircase that would lead to the attic. The cold air hit us immediately, letting us know it wouldn’t be as warm as the chamber rooms on the second level. A tiny door was opened, and then all four of us had to bend our heads to enter the small space. He was right, it was a spare room, a single bed pressed against the side of a wall with fresh linens folded over it. A circular white carpet was in the center of the room and then a small writing desk to be used at leisure. The man lifted a spare candle to connect to his own and then he placed it another candle-holder for the three of us to use for the night. He rapped out something quickly that I didn’t catch, but luckily for me I had Michael to translate it. “He wants to talk about payment.”

“How much?”

Michael relayed my question, while Fredrick wandered around the room in idle curiosity.

“He says because it is last minute, and you have to sleep with your slaves… not much.”

“Tell him, that he is very kind.”

Michael smiled at me briefly before she relayed the message. I spent that time watching Fredrick go on the tips of his toes to peer out the frosty window, knowing there was nothing to be seen when the white snowflakes covered the glossy surface. Michael broke my thoughts by stating out the price, and I waved my hand in agreement for the proceedings to be continued. My wallet was soon fished out of my pocket and I placed the cash in the man’s hand, pleased that it was even cheaper that the night before. _I only hope the driver found somewhere warm to sleep._

“He asked if you wanted us to sleep there?” Michael spoke up. “Over the carpet.”

“Tell him you will need extra blankets,” I stated in a gruff voice, which showed my disapproval.

Michael relayed the message and after that the man left us without another word. “He will be right back,” she promised me. Michael pulled off her gloves and brought her cold fingers to her lips, blowing hot air over it to bring back some warmth. Fredrick took this as a good sign and bent down on the floor to remove his boots. “We’re lucky.”

“Yes, it seems that way.” I turned my back to her, so I could remove my coat as well. Searching the darkened room for an appropriate hook to hang up our wet things. Fredrick walked in front of me to line up his boots next to the door, showing how neat and organized he was by nature. I took his coat once it was removed, placing it next to mine as I leaned them against a wooden chair.

“You have the key for the luggage?”

“Yes, you need it?”

“To get out our night things.”

“I’m not having a bath tonight,” I told her in a sleepy voice. “Ready for bed.”

“So am I.”

Fredrick walked over to my side and simply laid his head against the side of my hip, an unpredictable movement that made me raise up my arms in surprise. “Everything all right, lad?” I questioned him, which earned a sly grin from him. “Yes, you are perfectly fine.” Fredrick placed an arm around me, giving me a side hug which added to my confusion.

“Hug him back!” Michael chided. I smiled at her cunningly, and then let one of my arms drop downwards to be placed over the small boy’s shoulder. My wife’s face beamed at the sight of us, completely enamoured by this pretty picture. A knock on the door broke the blissful moment, and I charged towards the door to open it up for the tenant.

“Theodore,” he piped up, with a single finger pointed at his chest.

“Gabriel,” I answered him in a deep tenor with the flat of my hand laid over my own chest.

“Blankets,” he said with some difficulty, and offered the stack of colourful blankets for me to accept. “Errrr… goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” I spoke out with confidence and then closed the door between us. A single blanket was dropped on the floor, and then I second guessed myself by dropping another. “That should be enough for Fredrick.”

“He isn’t sleeping with us?” Michael exclaimed with a look of surprise.

“Fredrick!” I called out. “Would you like to share the bed with us?” He darted his eyes between Michael and I, considering the matter for a moment before he shook his head in reply. “And there’s our answer.” Michael openly rolled her eyes at me before she headed towards the bathroom and shut it loudly behind her. “Women.” Fredrick giggled relentlessly, finding our argument somewhat amusing. “Will you be alright?”

“Yes.”

“Enough blankets.”

“One more,” he asked me with a timid gesture of his hands.

“Here you are.” The blanket was placed into his small hands, and then I turned my back to him to unlock my luggage. “And I will get you something warm and dry to put on.”

It really felt like he was my adopted child, the mere fact of me holding up my clothing to see which one would be more comfortable for him proved that. It didn’t take long to find something warm for him, and I returned to his side to hand him my things. “Thank you, _Gabriel._ ” He looked shy when he uttered it, squinting slightly as if he expected me to smack him hard for using my Christian name. A tiny smile was my instant reaction, and then I stretched my arm downwards to cup it over his shoulder blade.

“You are most welcome,” I breathed out with something of a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Indian" is considered a derogatory word in Canada. I used it purely for historical purposes and to represent the terminology used at that time. Please note that I do not like to use that word in my academic career nor my personal life, and prefer to use the term "Indigenous" or "Peoples of First Nations" to represent these groups of people that were on the land we now call Canada first.
> 
> The people of the first nations did engage in fur trade with the French and later the British, but it was the British government that began to short change them after the Seven Years War. Government gifts were subsidized and the fair exchange between the British traders and the Indigenous people began to dwindle into petty offering such as alcohol and a small amount of bullets. They were given enough bullets to continue hunting for the Hudson Bay Company, but not enough to sustain a proper way of life. This issue should be divulged in the following chapters, but I thought I should educate you on the matter so you better understand the historical circumstances that Gabriel, Michael and Fredrick are walking into. 
> 
> Thanks for reading this,
> 
> petyrbaaaeeelish


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